


Behind The Sea

by WhatTheBodyGraspsNot



Category: Free!
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, General Haru-being-concerned-about-being-turned-on-by-a-half-shark-with-an-attitude-problem, M/M, Slow Burn, animal-trainer Nagisa, college-graduate Haru, half-shark Rin, male-nurse Makoto, marine-biologist Rei, minor side soumako, police-man Sousuke, themes of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-04-22 16:21:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 63,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4842242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatTheBodyGraspsNot/pseuds/WhatTheBodyGraspsNot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haru's side-job watching over the town's lighthouse has its disadvantages -- like having to clean up after the teenagers who break in to drink -- or the pesky seagull who can't determine whether it's daytime or nighttime -- or, most troublingly, the feeling of being watched by something from the sea as he works. </p><p>He's only heard about the half shark/half man creatures that lurk by the water's edge from legend.  But when a boy washes up onto shore one night, angry and refusing to speak, Haru realizes that he's about to get more up close and personal with the legend than ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! The following is my first time dabbling in free! fic writing -- i hope you enjoy :D
> 
> You can consult the regularly updated playlist [here](http://whatthebodygraspsnot.tumblr.com/behindtheseaplaylist)

 

The Eye of the Sea. That’s what they like to call Haru. The Beacon of Hope. But Haru doesn’t really care about any of those titles that his friends have jokingly given him, because this is just a side-job. 

 Watching over the lighthouse a few nights out of the week isn’t exactly a stellar setup, but it’s close to the water and it pays well and honestly Haru’s pretty comfortable where he’s at — keeping it tidy and occasionally using the large beacon an the top to direct incoming ships through the dark waters below. The Fleet’s Backbone. That’s what Miss Amakata, the woman who gave Haru this job, fondly calls it. 

 Apparently there’re a lot of ridiculous, over-the-top names for working this particular lighthouse.

 Haru doesn’t really care.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

The interior could use a little sweeping tonight, he realizes as he steps inside, slightly winded from climbing the stairs outside that lead to the door. It’s been a couple days since he’s been here — the local teenagers taking it upon themselves to break in again. Because what could be a better place to lay around and drink than the brisk metal inside of a lighthouse, right?

Haru sighs to himself, noting that he’ll have to engage in social interaction to ask Miss Amakata about fixing the locks. Again. 

“Great…” he mumbles, bending down to pick up several empty beer bottles that the unwanted houseguests apparently felt were too heavy to throw away themselves. Honestly, he’s starting to think they just _assume_ he loves picking up after them _._

_‘Oh, they’re only kids,’_ is what Miss A. will say when he confronts her about it in the morning — he already knows that. _‘They’re just trying to find their way.’_

But that’s a load of shit, he’s already decided, the bottles clinking together in his arms as he heads back down the stairs and toward the garbage can that Makoto left him for this very reason. When Haru was their age (and okay that was only a couple years ago…he did _technically_ just graduate from college), he had plenty of crippling anxiety about what he was going to do when he got older. But that didn’t mean he went around breaking into lighthouses and leaving messes for other people to clean up.

The sea breeze picks up off the water, casting Haru’s hair into a soft tousle as he opens his arms and lets the bottles drop into the garbage with an indiscreet clatter. Maybe he can get Sousuke down here to scare the shit out of them. Certainly a brush with the police would be enough to put this whole breaking and entering thing to rest. But…that _would_ involve getting in touch with Sousuke first. And…yeah… believe it or not, Haru’s not exactly fired up about that.  

The shriek of a lone seagull pulls him from his thoughts, urging him to get back to work.

Haru begins his trek back to the lighthouse stairs, another shriek sounding through the darkness as the seagull, now in sight, lands on a nearby rock. “Quiet, Hibiki,” he mutters in annoyance as he passes it, perfect acquaintances with the bird that must not understand that it’s a bird and that it’s also _nighttime —_ because here it is, as it always is, causing a ruckus while the rest of its species is fast asleep. (Just like Haru himself, he supposes.)

Hibiki scoots across the rocks and flaps its wings a few times in reply, Haru regarding it with a tired glance and nothing more. Maybe it’s because he _is_ so tired — worked far too long by Coach Sasabe during practice today. Or maybe it’s because, no matter how hard he tries to ignore it, Haru can’t shake the feeling that he’s not alone. That there’s something out there as they speak. In the water. Watching him. 

It’s stupid, and Haru wishes it was a delusion fueled by the questionable energy drink that he foolishly took from Nagisa tonight, but the truth is, this isn’t the first time he’s felt it. The gaze. Coming off the water with the breeze that wraps around his body as he stands there and tries to put a name to the feeling. 

Hibiki lands right in his path of sight, pecking at the wooden railing that flanks the stairs.  

Haru turns from the water, too tired to deal tonight. 

“Go to sleep,” he orders, the finality in his tone all for naught as the bird glances up at him while he makes his way up the stairs. Because he knows as soon as he steps out onto the gallery deck in a few minutes, Hibiki will be sitting on the railing waiting for him. 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

On the third night at the lighthouse, Makoto brings him dinner after his shift at the hospital. He’s not even out of his scrubs when he shows up, appearing at the door with a small smile.

“Thanks,” Haru says, accepting the bento with a little nod and grabbing the guitar by the stairs as he leads them up and out onto the balcony that wraps around the lantern room. “How’d it go?”

Makoto sits, crossing his legs on the metal flooring as he unwraps his own dinner. “Alright. The woman I’m shadowing now is a lot nicer than the last one.” He slides his chopsticks out and gathers a small clump of rice as he speaks. “She actually lets me do things — take vitals and stuff instead of just watch.” 

Haru munches quietly, still not incredibly familiar with how the whole track-to-becoming-a-nurse thing works. “That’s good.”

The beacon rotates above them, casting its glow on the waves below as they eat. They don’t technically need it to see — the moonlight’s always been more than enough on that front — but it’s protocol to keep the lamp on in case any unscheduled ships make their way to shore. 

Haru finishes eating first, setting the empty box next to him so he can sling the guitar over his lap, fingers brushing quietly over the strings.

_Technically_ , it’s not his — left behind by whoever had this job before him. But needless to say, Haru’s usually got some time to kill when he’s up here. So naturally he had picked it up and taught himself — fucked around with it for a little bit before actually taking it seriously and becoming not too shabby at it. 

He only knows one song — something he made up on a dreadfully long three-night shift — but he can play it almost perfectly now, the melody floating out over the water as he plucks away absent-mindedly.

It’s almost calming enough that he can tune out the feeling of being watched.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

The waves are something else tonight. 

Miss A. gives him the schedule of incoming ships and tells him to call her if he needs help and Haru just nods even though the pressure is starting to weigh down on him. But he does his job — stands in the lantern room and shines the beacon’s light down into the water for the incoming boats to follow. The land formations underwater aren’t particularly tricky, but there are a few rough patches that would definitely do damage if anything were to run into them, so the pressure is one that Haru knows is justified.

But he does his best and leads everyone safely to shore, the added difficulty of choppy incoming waves not doing him any favors but not preventing him from seeing his job through to the end. 

When the last ship has passed through successfully, Haru steps back onto the balcony, running a hand through his hair and taking a well-deserved deep breath of the breezy sea air. It’s right about the same time Hibiki flutters down to perch near him on the railing, its squawking startling him enough to snap. 

“Fu—Hibiki, stop,” he frowns, his patience far too thin for the bird’s antics tonight.

But the squawking doesn’t stop. On the contrary, Hibiki’s alarm only increases, its wings flapping violently as it picks itself up and flies into Haru’s space, Haru about one step away from swatting it out of the air until it backs off on its own, circling around him and then nearly diving over the railing and towards the sea — towards the shore — towards the huddled figure curled into itself on one of the larger rocks below.

Haru’s heart plummets in his chest, Hibiki’s franticness dawning on him. 

Someone’s down there.

Haru swears, turning on a dime and taking the stairs down the interior of the lighthouse by twos. His chest is tight when he reaches the door andwrenches it open, climbing down the rest of the stairs and taking off for the shore in a full sprint, not stopping until the figure comes into full view.

They’re shaking when Haru drops to his knees beside them — naked and shivering with their head down and arms wrapped around themselves.

“Are you okay?” he hears himself say, one hand going to their shoulder and the other reaching down to lift them by their chin so he can see their face.

Their head lifts tentatively — dark red hair tangled from the waves and eyes opening ever so slowly.

Haru swallows — doesn’t know what to do when those eyes focus on his for a split second, registering, before widening into something surprised and almost frantic.

“Wait,” he insists as they start to move away, legs kicking out awkwardly and a look of pure shock evident across their face. “Hang on—”

But they keep moving, a mess of limbs and cold skin and he — Haru definitely knows he’s a _he_ now — doesn’t seem hurt — just misplaced. Confused.

Haru reaches out for him again. “Can I help yo—”

The boy snaps his head up at him, two rows of sharp teeth gleaming at him in the darkness, more than enough for Haru to pull his hands back.

“Okay,” he says, his heart beating ten thousand miles a minute in his chest as he watches everything play out in front of him. What the fuck. What the fuck is he supposed to do? “Can you stand?”

His words seem to go in one ear and out the other, the boy staring down at his own lower half like he sees something that Haru can’t. Ghosts of something alarming and dysphoric. And honestly, it’s more than a bit worrying.

“Let me help you,” he tries again, smart enough not to reach out for him face-to-face, but to instead stand on his own and _then_ reach a hand out.

His every move is being watched, the boy glaring at his hand like it’s an insult before directing the glare back up toward Haru. And Haru just honest to god doesn’t know what to do in this situation. Because this guy hasn’t said a single damn word. And the only response he’s gotten out of him is fear and aggression and — 

Suddenly his hand is being grabbed — tight and quick and almost like it’s this guy’s lifeline — but Haru doesn’t let it scare him off. He takes this first act of cooperation and runs with it, pulling the boy up by the hand as best he can. It almost works too, except for the fact that they get about halfway there before something goes haywire and they’re both collapsing back onto the wet stone beneath them.

Haru huffs, running a hand through his hair as the boy in front of him winces. Okay. 

“I’ll carry you,” he decides, not too positive about weight similarities because this guy looks about the same age as him and even a little broader at the shoulders. But they can’t stay at the edge of the choppy water like this. Not with one of them completely naked and with possible injuries. “Okay?”

He’s being stared at again, eyebrows coming together into something menacing. But Haru reaches out anyway, deciding to bite the bullet and swing one arm around the guy’s back, the other under the crook of his knees.

And if Miss A. would’ve told him that carrying washed up naked people to the lighthouse was part of the job description, Haru would’ve turned it down immediately. Because it’s a lot of work — especially when the person you’re carrying doesn’t seem to know how to control their bottom half, causing their weight distribution to be all sorts of fucked up.

But he does it — carries him all the way up the stairs, no thanks to Hibiki (who watches unhelpfully from his perch on the railing) — and successfully gets him sitting on the floor, a blanket now covering his more private regions.

“What’s your name?” he tries for the fifth time, dragging a hand down his face as he’s ignored for the apparently much more pressing matter of staring at his own feet.

They’re not getting anywhere. And they’re doing it very slowly. And Haru’s about ready to call Makoto. 

“Were you on one of the ships?” Because where the hell else could this guy have came from? No one in their right minds would be out swimming in these waves tonight. And besides, Haru’s pretty damn sure he would remember a face like this guy’s—

Suddenly a hand flies out toward him, grabbing at Haru’s wrist and causing Haru’s eyebrows to raise as his entire body is pulled closer to the stranger’s. 

“What?” he asks, his voice annoyingly a step higher than normal (but he’ll never tell).

He’s being watched again — deep red eyes trailing over seemingly every single detail of his face — the plane of his forehead, down the bridge of his nose, past the part of his lips. 

“ _What?_ ” Haru tries again, pulling back a little because this is far too close for…well _anybody_ really.

But surprise, surprise…he doesn’t get an answer. Just more staring.

“Tell me your name,” it's a demand now, because if this guy wants to get up close and personal after such a short time, he better start talking. “Or I’m calling you Rin.” 

His grand ultimatum falls upon deaf ears, the boy’s free hand landing on Haru’s ankle experimentally instead.

Haru startles (but he’ll never tell that either), pulling away from the mystery man’s clutches and glaring up a storm. “What’s wrong with you? Don’t just touch people.” He’s halfway over to the other side of the room before he knows it, turning his face from him. “Where do you live? I’m taking you home.” 

He doesn’t know why he says it. Maybe it’s because deep in his mind, he realizes he’s not going to get an answer. Maybe it’s because deep in his good conscience, he knows he can’t just leave him here. Maybe it’s because deep in his heart, he knows that in the end, he’s going to be taking him home to watch over him regardless.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Carrying him all the way to his house is atrocious — Haru’s muscles screaming at him the whole way there. It’s not that he lives that far away from the lighthouse, it’s just that things are made exponentially more intense when carrying someone a little over your own body weight. But apparently walking is not a _thing_ for Rin, (he’s actively calling him Rin now), so Haru struggles the whole way there.

But they make it. And Haru’s thanking every deity out there that it’s so late that no one sees him bringing a naked guy with a blanket draped over his lap into his house — even more thankful that he lives alone and doesn’t have a roommate to dance around. And even if he’s still a little shaken from the night’s antics, there’s something reassuring about the fact that he’s home, dealing with… _whatever the hell he’s dealing with_ in his own space with his own mackerel in his own pan.

The fish sizzles invitingly, enough for two and cooking nicely as the stranger sits on the floor in the living room, freshly clothed in a pair of Haru’s old track pants and a spare t-shirt.

That in itself had been a remarkable challenge, the boy staring silently when the clothes were handed to him.

“You can borrow them,” Haru had spelled out, already caught onto the fact that bluntness is key.  

But he had only stared confusedly on, picking up the shirt by one of the sleeves and holding it up in front of his face, taking a moment to glance around it at Haru’s shirt a few times.

It was about that time that Haru had realized that this guy is suffering from amnesia or something — no idea what his name is…doesn’t know where he lives…can’t comprehend simple things like putting a shirt on…

It was a sad realization, one that meant Haru’ll have to bring him to the late-night emergency room as soon as they’re done eating, but it acted as a sense of closure that Haru so desperately needed, pushing him to help pull the t-shirt down over that mess of red hair and finagle those arms through the sleeves. It wasn’t exactly the best fit, Rin’s muscles and slightly broader shoulders almost too prominent for the shirt, but it had to do, because the mackerel was singing Haru’s name from the refrigerator. 

Which brings us back to now, the fish fully cooked to perfection and slid onto plates over rice. Haru places the pan back onto the burner and turns it off, too entranced by the promise of food after a long night to give much notice to the noises coming from the living room — or, more importantly, how the noises are just slightly… _off_.

“You need to eat,” he starts, emerging from the kitchen with his apron tossed over his shoulder and a plate in each hand. “Since you w— _fuck_ —” 

The plates clatter to the floor, ceramic shattering and rice flying and Haru’s heart spiking in his chest as his eyes land on the boy before him — the t-shirt gone and leaving the expanse of his chest — his stomach —pale skin giving way to where his legs have somehow come together into a single lower half — silver and smooth and…and… _shark_ -like…  

What the fuck. 

“Wh—…” Haru blinks, focusing his eyes in an attempt to confirm that he is, in fact, seeing what he’s seeing.“What…”

What the fuck. What the _fuck._  

Rin’s holds a hand out, the shredded black material of Haru’s pants hanging there limply, his other hand closed into a fist and held fingers-down to the middle of his bare chest.

But Haru just stares — brows coming together in confusion and doubt and he can’t bring himself to grasp just what the _fuck_ he’s looking at because people can’t just be…

“You’re…a shark…”

Rin frowns, seemingly unhappy with Haru’s reaction. 

And Haru doesn’t really want to upset him. Especially now that he’s half-water-predator. But… _what the fuck_ … And are those _gills_ on the sides of his neck?

“Uh…”

What’s left of the pants are thrust in his direction again, the irritation plain in Rin’s movements as the fist against his chest tightens. It’s clear that he’s trying to apologize for ripping through them during whatever kind of damn transformation just occurred behind Haru’s back, but his patience is running low — a feeling Haru’s all too familiar with — so he approaches Rin hesitantly, doing his best to come off as neutral. 

He must be doing a shit job at it though, because as soon as he takes the shredded remains of his track pants, Rin’s crossing his arms over his chest and bringing his tail into his body as closely as possible. And if he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was out of embarrassment.

Haru watches quietly, glancing between the mess of rice and mackerel on the floor and where Rin’s actively trying to hide his bottom half behind himself.

The guilt that follows is frustrating.  

“I’m…” Haru starts, never one to express his feelings out loud very well. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” He takes a tactful seat next to him — close but not too close. There’s no reaction. “You’re offended?” Rin turns his face away from him, and Haru doesn’t know if that’s an answer to his question or just another step in distancing himself, so he presses on. “This's... _different_...”

Rin’s still got his arms crossed, the broad T of his tail fin flicking ever so slightly against the floor.

It’s impossible not to look at — the smooth shine that starts just above his hips and travels downward, over the two smaller pelvic fins, the dorsal fin, and the larger fin even lower still. 

He’s like a mermaid. But…a mer _shark_ …

The feeling of being watched creeps over Haru’s bones, causing him to glance up to see that Rin is very much looking at him now, his scowl evening out into something like aggravated pride.

There’s no time to apologize or explain himself because before he can, Rin’s reaching out again, his fingers wrapping around Haru’s wrist and dragging him forward. But this time it’s for a purpose. Because this time, when he brings Haru’s hand over, he places it palm-down over the solid middle of his lower half, allowing the touch that Haru didn’t even realize he was interested in until right this second.

The expanse of his tail _isn’t_ smooth, he realizes with morbid curiosity as Rin lets go and allows him to feel on his own. On the contrary, it’s almost rough — like a low grade of sandpaper. He tests out Rin’s comfort with a slight drag of his fingers, sliding his hand towards where the dorsal fin thins out at the tip.

Rin’s watching him again when he glances up, all traces of negativity vanished. Apparently he doesn’t mind being looked at when it’s with a look of admiration.

“Um…” Haru’s giving one last touch and then pulling away, “…that’s nice,” he tries, because he’s not familiar with how to compliment a half-human half-shark properly.

(Let’s be honest, he’s not familiar with how to compliment full-humans either.)

Rin must accept it regardless of being able to understand it or not, because he has this look of almost-satisfaction dancing across his face, his tail flicking against the wood floor once more.

“How’re you…” God, talking to someone who doesn’t understand human speech is hard… “Water? Don’t you need water?” 

Rin blinks at him. 

“Water,” he tries again, mimicking a front crawl swim like an idiot because it’s the first thing that pops into his head. 

Another blink.

Of course. Haru’s not a marine-biologist, but he’s pretty sure shark-people most likely don’t follow strict swimming styles.He points out the window instead, the edge of the ocean visible in the distance from where they’re sitting. “Water,” he tries one more time.

Something must click in Rin’s head, because his attention is suddenly zeroed in on Haru.

And yes. Hell yes. Finally a connection. “Yes? You need water?”

Rin’s instantly moving forward, the sound of his tail thumping and grating across the floor almost as alarming as how quickly he’s advancing onto Haru, hands gripping at the tops of his shoulders and head buried into Haru’s chest.

Haru blanks, unsure of what to do with his hands now that they’re not being directed. “What uh—” 

It’s then that he hears it, the shaky exhale of a heavy breath against his shirt, and that’s definitely not the sound he was expecting.

Haru peers down into maroon hair, unsure of how to proceed but forced to when there’s another shaky breath — a pained inhale that has him pushing at Rin’s shoulders until the panicky expression on his face is all too visible.

“What?” The panic is transferring — “What’s happening?” — the volume of his voice climbing as the grip on his shoulders tightens. “Hey.”

It’s then that he sees it — the way the silver is fading from the tips of Rin’s tail fin, two flesh-toned protrusions remaining and changing and forming and—  

Haru’s eyes widen. 

They’re feet. 

Rin’s bottom half is turning back into a human.

“Okay,” he says like he knows how to coach someone through a transition such as this, “Shit…”  

It’s not helping. It’s not helping and Rin’s burying his face back into Haru’s shirt and the noises he’s making aren’t _pained_ per se, just anxious and uncertain and Haru can certainly imagine that he’d be pretty damn anxious if the bottom half of his body was changing into something else too.

But he stays at it, awkwardly lets his hands rest over Rin’s shoulder blades in an attempt at affection, and when he glances over him again, human legs have formed all the way up to just below his waist, those shaky breaths evening off into a steady puff of warmth against Haru’s chest. 

The transformation finishes with a tiny hitch from the back of Rin’s throat, and then his body goes limp, sinking into Haru’s hold with a final exhale of breath.

A moment goes by. 

Haru stares down at him, unsure. “…Rin?”

There’s no response, the body still in his arms. But then, just as Haru is about to launch into some serious anxiety, he stirs, his brows furrowing as he presses the side of his face into Haru’s chest without a sound. 

And…

Haru blinks. Stares down at the person in his arms. Glances up and around like the answer of what to do next is waiting for him in the air.

It’s not.  

This guy is a half-shark. And he's Haru's responsibility.

Okay. Well at least it’s not amnesia. 

 

 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

What do you do with a mershark once you save one? 

It’s not exactly something you can Google (if Haru did that sort of thing)…

You can’t really ask a friend. (Hey, Makoto? Yes, I find I’ve currently got one mershark too many at my house. Suggestions?)

There’s literally no help when it comes to this. Which is why Haru’s currently slouched against the wall, eyes half-lidded and heavy as he watches said mershark do his best at getting accustomed to having legs. 

Haru can’t just put him _back_. What if he changes in the middle of the water and sinks like a stone because he can’t use his legs well enough to swim? 

But he can’t stay _here_ , can he? Haru’s got a life (kind of). He’s got things to do (rarely). Commitments (not really).

Rin takes a step with considerable finesse, already almost an expert at standing without falling. Walking more than one step, on the other hand…

_THUMP_

Haru sighs, burying his face in his hands. 

What do you do with a mershark once you save one?

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

The sun is high in the sky and trickling in through the window when Haru’s eyes creep open, an ache in his back and two eyes locked permanently onto him.

He straightens his posture against the wall, covering a yawn with the back of his hand as he does so. This isn’t going to be good for practice today. 

The clock sitting on a nearby shelf tells him that he’s still got time to get ready.

The stare refusing to quit tells him he’ll most likely have to deal with something first.

“What…” he mumbles, blinking tiredly.

Rin, on the other hand, doesn’t seem tired at all — an incredible feat for someone who has literally changed species a handful of times in no less than two hours.

Haru yawns again, still under surveillance, and then pulls himself up from his impromptu sleeping spot to head toward the kitchen. “Food?”  The silence behind him is enough of a reminder for him to turn around, back-stepping carefully as he talks.  “Food,” he repeats, using both hands to mimic bringing some sort of nondescript sandwich or something to his mouth. “Food?”

Rin perks up a little bit, his posture straightening, and Haru takes that as a “yes”.

Toast, in retrospect, probably isn’t the best thing to feed a new houseguest. Especially if your houseguest is Rin. But they’re skirting the edge on time that Haru has to get ready and get out of the house, so toast it is. 

He’s already almost finished by the time Rin’s done regarding the piece before him with an analyzing glower, gripping it with both hands and slowly bringing it up before tearing off a piece of the crust.  He holds it in his mouth, unmoving and very much unimpressed, before swallowing and putting the rest of the toast back down onto the plate.

Haru blinks. 

Okay.

“You don’t like toast.”

The remaining time involves rummaging through his kitchen, asking himself “What the hell do sharks eat?”, throwing some grapes and leftover sushi together, and gathering his swim stuff into his bag with a minute to spare.

“I’ll be back,” he says when he sees that Rin has abandoned the untouched sushi plate to come stand over by him and watch him laces his shoes. “Three hours.” 

He straightens himself, too under the gun to fully appreciate that blossom of warmth that uncurls in his chest when he notices how Rin’s a few inches taller than him when they’re this close. 

“Three hou—here.” He holds his watch up in front of Rin's face, pointing at the big hand and then tracing down to the 3. When Rin’s eyes flit back up to his, he tries again. “Look,” it’s the clock on the wall that he consults next, tracing the larger face until his pointer finger lands on the 3 again. “Three hours.”

He’s not solid that Rin’s understanding, but there’s no time to figure out another way to say it, even with the way his confusion is slowly starting to work its way into something more and more distressed with every step Haru takes toward the door.

He has to ignore it though, swinging his swim bag over his shoulder with one last, “I’ll be back,” before disappearing through the door.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Haru had tried the whole competitive swimming thing in college — had a strict regimen and a coach who made him work his ass off every single day. It had its high points: breaking his record for 100 meter freestyle by five whole seconds, having Makoto and Nagisa and Rei and everyone there when he came in first place at championships. But the constant go-go-go of everything had gotten to him — made him lose sight of why he actually enjoys swimming in the first place. So, much to apparently everyone in the swimming world’s disappointment, he retired from hardcore competitive swimming to focus on something more his style. Something looser. Something that Coach Sasabe helps him achieve every time he’s in the water. 

Except, maybe, today. Because today his head is everywhere but in the lane.

“Take five, Haruka. Shake out those cobwebs in your brain.”

Haru nods, pulling himself out of the water to sit on the edge of the pool. 

He’s not exactly sure if this is something he can just ‘shake off’ — everything that happened last night and the knowledge that there’s currently a half-man half-fish doing god knows what in his house.

How the hell is he going to deal with this? He’s already adamantly decided against leaving Rin back in the ocean until he’s more familiar with his transformation patterns — when they happen and _why_ they happen. But how is he supposed to keep on with his daily life while simultaneously harboring a creature straight out of lore?

He slips back into the pool, submerging himself and gliding around as he consults the water like he did when he was growing up.

How does he take care of a mershark when he knows almost nothing about actual sharks in the first place?

_Ask Rei_ , the water says.

And Haru wonders why the hell he didn’t think of that in the first place.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Despite being a year younger than him, Rei’s already knee-deep in his own career as a marine-biologist, graduating early and advancing quickly (as Rei _does_ ). It helps that Nagisa is there too, the energetic animal trainer and performer to Rei’s scientific knowledge — the perfect couple if there is such a thing.

Haru fishes his phone out of his bag as he walks home from practice, his hair still wet and clinging to his face as he finds Rei’s contact and thumbs at it. 

_“Haruka—”_

“Rei. What do sharks eat.” It’s blunt and out of the blue, but since when has Haru been anything _but?_  


_“…sharks?”_ Rei seems to be a touch distracted, something shuffling in the background. _“Well let’s see…what kind of shark? The feeding habits vary pretty widely between species. There can be a rather large difference between, say, a whale shark and a mako shark.”_

Haru sighs. He has no fucking idea what kind of shark Rin is…or at least… _half_ …is…

_“Haruka-senpai?”_

“Wh—…just a general shark.”

There’s some silence on the other end, Rei far too vastly equipped with knowledge on the subject to entertain this stupid question without dumbing it down first.

_“Well…unless we’re including large filter-feeders,_ generally _the main diet of sharks can be anything from other fish to larger marine mammals.”_

Haru stores that away in his brain. Fish. He can definitely do fish.

_“Why the sudden interest in sh—wait, Nagisa don’t, that’s not ready yet—”_

_“Is that Haru-chan? Hi, Haru-cha—”_

Haru hangs up before being roped into further conversation. He’ll bring lunch over to the lab housed in the local aquarium sometime soon to make up for it. 

What’s important now is that he’s almost all the way to the top of the stairs that lead to his house, the sun leaving his hair nearly dry under its rays. He could technically stray to the right and stop by at Makoto’s house. Tell him what’s happened. Ask for help. But Makoto is Makoto and if there’s one thing Haru’s sure about, it’s that he’d freak out and adopt the problem as his own. So that’s not going to happen. No, he stays true, climbing the last of the stairs and pulling his key out of his pocket.

He’s expecting chaos when he slowly opens the door. Ripped curtains. Food everywhere. But when he peeks his head through — silent and ready — there’s no damage to assess. 

He takes a few steps inside, pulling his shoes off and leaving his bag at the door. The living room is spotless when he reaches it. Exactly how he left it. Even down to the untouched plate he left on the table. The only thing that’s different, in fact, is…

“Rin?”

He’s sitting in the corner. Back to the door. Tail gleaming in the sun.

Haru approaches him calmly, eyes landing on the shredded pieces of the shorts that he’d let him borrow as he makes his way over.

The only noise throughout the house is the shuffle of fabric when he takes a seat next to him, the boy resting most of his weight on one hand against the wood floor, the other laid against the smooth curve of his hip. 

“Rin…” Haru tries again, noting the complete lack of response — not even a visual recognition that he’s there. But somehow he can tell that his presence is known.

Rin’s scowl is redirected from the wall to the floor beside him — the opposite direction of where Haru now lets himself take in the sight of Rin’s tail again — his gills — the subtle shine of silver across his hands.

“You changed…” 

It’s an obvious conclusion. One that doesn’t explain _why_ he changed. What _happened_ that made him change. Unless... 

Haru glances up at the clock, their last interaction before he left replaying in his mind. 

Maybe…does Rin think he abandoned him? Left him here for good? No matter how many times Haru had said “three hours” and “I’ll be back”, he supposes that means nothing to someone who doesn’t understand human speech.

“Because I left, right?”  Haru glances back over at Rin — at the displeasure creasing his brow. 

Yep. That’s it.

But he’s back now. He’s back until whatever next thing he has to do comes up. How is he supposed to make this better? Haru sits, brain working overtime as Rin flicks his tail against the floor beside him. What was that thing he had done when he messed up Haru’s track pants last night? That was definitely a “I screwed up, I realize that, and maybe I'm sorry”.

Haru goes for it — pulls his hand into a fist and then holds it against his chest, his knuckles brushing against the dampness of his shirt as he mimics the mershark’s action. 

Rin shifts, scowl unwavering and gaze dropping down to where Haru’s gesturing next to him. He watches for a long moment — one that has Haru wondering if that really wasn’t a gesture after all and now he’s just confusing him even more by throwing around strange signals. But then, ever so slowly, those red eyes shift up to his, the heat behind them evening out.

Haru waits. 

Seriously? Did that just work?

There’s no more room for question when Rin slowly shifts again, his top half facing Haru so he can tip forward and gently rest his forehead against Haru’s in one confident and startling motion.

Haru swallows, eyebrows raising ever so slightly at the sudden closeness. Oh. Alright.

Fist to chest means ‘I fucked up’. Forehead to forehead means ‘I forgive you’.

Right. Okay.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

There are several things that mersharks are not accustomed to when it comes to human-made inventions. Like _,_ say, _doorhandles_ , for instance. Case in point: one shouldn’t leave a mershark in a room to change after a transformation (after finally teaching them how to put clothes on), because there are unsurprisingly no doorhandles in the sea. So what ends up happening, see, is one has to go rescue the now disproportionately enraged mershark as they try to claw their way out of the room through the door.

Other things that aren’t found underwater and are liable to create a great amount of commotion: stoves, ringing cellphones, anything that has to do with the television, birds that gather on the electrical wires outside the window to do bird things, etc.

Each new experience for Rin is also, by proxy, an experience for Haru. 

And it’s still only the first full day.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Sleeping is not really a thing Rin’s into either, Haru realizes at three in the morning, the sounds of his houseguest milling around still audible through the crack in his door. 

Is that a shark thing? Do sharks not sleep a lot?

More things to ask Rei.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Waking up in the morning feels about the same as waking up yesterday morning against the wall. He’s groggy — hair a mess and movements feeling like they take extra effort.

Rin, it seems, doesn’t very much care about this, because as soon as Haru emerges from his room, that pair of eyes is locked onto him again. 

“Hi…” Haru mumbles, immediately headed to open the door to the backyard for some fresh air. It’ll have to do for now — not really a coffee guy or anything like that. If it were a couple days ago, he’d draw himself a bath and soak until he was feeling right as rain. But these are the pleasantries one has to give up when watching over impromptu company.

There’s some movement behind him, quicker than Haru’s capable of dealing with, and then his space is being crowded from behind.

Speak of the devil.

“Fresh air,” Haru explains in a tired drone, tilting his head to see the enthusiasm with which Rin observes the backyard. 

A hand reaches over Haru’s shoulder, long, thin fingers splaying out over the screen of the door. It’s almost endearing (if Haru was into that sort of thing, that is).

“Wanna go outside?” he asks, “Outside?” before stopping and resisting the urge to roll his eyes at himself. Because what is Rin, a _dog?_  


But the implications fly right over the boy’s head, his attention now too fixated on whatever is moving across the grass a few feet away.

Haru really should formulate some sort of gameplan here before just letting Rin run free. But nothing bad is going to happen, right? He’ll know to stay within the confines of the backyard, right? …right?

“Hold on, let me—”

_buzzzz_

Haru’s head whips toward the front door, something like dread beginning to seep into his bones as the realization hits him. 

Oh crap. Someone’s here.

Rin’s still scanning the ceiling when Haru grabs him, no doubt trying to place where the strange noise just came from as he’s led down the hallway by the shoulders.

“Stay here,” Haru orders, pushing Rin into the bedroom and ignoring the look of confused anger that’s starting to spread across his face as he shuts the door. “Stay.”

And jesus _christ,_ he’s talking to him like he’s a dog again.

_“Haru?”_

Damn it, it’s Makoto. The one person who seems to have no trouble breaking into his house if there isn’t an immediate response.

Something scratches against wood behind Haru as he makes his way back down the hallway, but he abandons it to pick up the pace and finally reach the front door with probably only seconds of Makoto-countdown-time to spare.

“Ah, you’re up.”

Makoto’s as sunshiny as usual today, his head tilting to the side as he smiles fondly at the no doubt unattractive mess that is this morning’s Nanase Haruka.

“What is it?” Haru frowns. And no, he’s not _trying_ to be a complete asshole. It’s just the way he is sometimes.

Makoto knows that all too well. “Just stopped by to see if you wanted to come to brunch,” he hums, an arm reaching out to no doubt fix something in Haru’s disheveled appearance, “Sousuke’s—”

The next few seconds are a blur — the unsettling beat of quick footfalls — the flash of dark red — the brush of skin and the surprised “Whaa—!” and before Haru knows what’s happening, it all adds together in one massive flurry and—oh _no._

“Rin!” he snaps, startled more than anything as he pulls at Rin’s bare shoulders, the grip with which his pointy teeth have clamped around Makoto’s forearm not letting up.

Oh no. Oh no oh no.

“Rin, stop!” (It’s technically his own fault for teaching him how to use doorhandles.)

Makoto’s eyes are the widest Haru’s ever seen them, his mouth frozen in an silent gasp when Haru finally pulls hard enough for Rin to release him, Rin stumbling back and wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand as he glares up at Makoto.

“W-well…” he finally gets out, visibly shaken and arm pulled into himself as he stares down at where Rin’s currently glaring daggers at him. “Who’s—what’s uh—…”

Haru steps between them, the shortest in the trio but still tall enough to block most of Rin’s territorial wrath. “Makoto,” he says, but he’s not exactly sure _what_ he’s saying, “Rin’s—…” how do you sidestep around all the bullshit that’s happened within the last couple days? “He has…amnesia…”

They stand there silently, frozen in the doorway except for how Rin reaches out and pulls Haru back into him a step by his shirt.

Makoto’s the first to break the silence. “…ah…”

It’s such a Makoto thing to say. Not rude. Not accusatory. Not _‘what the hell, this guy just fucking bit me’._ Just… _‘…ah…’_

Haru’s eternally thankful that it’s Makoto that Rin decided to lose his mind on and not someone less understanding. He can’t imagine it being someone else. Like Rei or something. Oh christ, what if it was Sousuke?

“So is that a…no for brunch then…?” It’s Makoto who speaks first again, his body turning but hesitant attention still on the seething boy behind Haru. (Probably for good reason too. The negativity coming off Rin in waves is still at top notch.)

Haru nods. Ignores the way the grip on his shirt tightens. “Another day.”

“‘Kay then, I’ll just see you…later I guess…” he trails off, nodding with a forced quirk of his lips. “Haru. Rin, I think it was…”

The door clicks shut. 

Haru turns in his place, his frown similar to that of a displeased mother ready to scold her young.

“What the hell.”

Rin’s scowl focuses on him now, his hand coming out and pressing square in the middle of Haru’s chest.

“ _No,_  Rin,” he snaps, swatting whatever the fuck kind of signal that is away from him, “Don’t just bite people — what’s wrong with you.”

The rejection of his gesture seems to do nothing but irritate Rin even more, fingers splaying out against him as his hand damn near slams back down over Haru’s chest. Adamant. Steady.

Haru huffs but lets it happen, his brows knitting together as the aggravation of everything that’s happened recently starts to boil over. “What? What's this mean? ‘Yours’?” he grabs at the wrist that’s still solidly holding him, “Makoto isn’t bad. Why—”

Suddenly Rin’s pushing — using the hand he’s got on Haru to force him backwards until Haru’s back is colliding with the closed door, eyes squeezing shut and a breath escaping him on impact. And when he opens his eyes Rin’s all at once very close — too close — way too close…

Haru swallows, something weirdly warm blooming in his gut as Rin’s glare fades into simple annoyance, the energy around him calming bit by bit and the tightness that he’s pinned Haru against the door with lessening.

He takes in Haru’s face again, eyes soaking it in just like before. The tip of his nose. The sweep of his jawline. Then, very slowly, almost as if he’s second-guessing himself…his hold on Haru drops, Haru’s hand falling with it.

It’s all smooth movements after that…his gaze cast to the side and down toward the floor…his fist rising up, ever so slowly, to brush just above the base of his sternum.

There’s something about the accountability of it. The understanding. It’s enough to edge out much of the aggravation still lingering inside Haru.

He sighs — a long exhale through his nose — “It’s fine,” he murmurs, and when Rin doesn’t move, doesn’t look up at all, he steadies himself and then leans forward, imitating the interaction from the previous afternoon. “It’s fine,” he repeats, resting his forehead against Rin’s even though the heat is flooding his chest again. “Just don’t bite people.”

They stand like that for longer than what’s already uncomfortable. And Haru doesn’t know if it’s because that’s what’s supposed to happen, or if Rin knows he’s fucked up pretty badly. 

But there they stand, Haru’s hands awkwardly at his sides and forehead pressed against Rin’s for what feels like an eternity.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


	3. Chapter 3

 

The first time Haru sees Rin sleep is on the third night. He’s halfway through brushing his teeth when he notices the lump in the middle of his bedroom floor. Turns out, after turning the nightstand lamp on, the lump is actually Rin, laid out on his belly and arms crossed to make a pillow for himself.

Haru just kind of blinks, his hand still on the light switch and toothbrush still hanging out of his mouth. 

Okay. 

He silently sets blankets and pillows out for him — even makes a little nest-like bed out of them for him on the floor. And it’s not that Haru watches him sleep, because that’s more than a little weird, it’s just…calming almost, to drift off to the steady breath of someone else — something Haru certainly hasn’t done a lot of in his lifetime. And Rin finally looks so cool, the tension that Haru thought was permanently set in his shoulders soothed away. The constant crease of his brow has evened out too. And for the first time since finding him washed up onto shore, he finally looks at ease.

When Haru stirs awake in the middle of the night, only a few hours gone past, he’s nowhere to be found, the blankets and pillows untouched and the door cracked open.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

“Rin.”

It’s almost noon. 

It’s almost noon and they’re outside for the first time.  

It’s almost noon and they’re outside for the first time and all Haru’s trying to do is keep up with his gardening but Rin’s got other plans. Like pulling blades of grass out of the ground one by one and holding them up to the sun, squinting angrily at them for some reason Haru doesn’t feel like deciphering right now.

“Rin,” he says again, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist, the trowel in his gloved hand glinting in the sunshine. 

It’s enough to catch Rin’s attention, apparently up in the air with whether or not he recognizes his name yet. 

“Leave the grass,” Haru huffs. Because before long, there’ll be a nice bald patch in the lawn where there wasn’t one before. 

Rin stares at him. 

Haru stares back.

It’s a stand-off. 

The sudden shriek of a non-Hibiki seagull flying overhead interrupts their stare-down, Rin seizing the opportunity to snatch the trowel from Haru’s hand and repeatedly stab it into the ground in front of them.

“Don—okay,” Haru gives up with a defeated sigh, dirt flying into the air as the spade of the trowel digs into his once glorious garden. “Okay, thank you.” 

Maybe now isn’t the best time for gardening.

As if to agree with his private thoughts, Rin’s massacre of the ground comes to a swift and final end — or more accurately, at the realization that he was the epicenter of the dirt tornado and that, yes, the dirt has in fact landed all over him because of it. 

He runs a hand through the clumps of soil in his hair, his nose scrunching into something scandalized and almost endearing — like he’s not entirely sure what’s going on but this stuff needs to get off of him right this second.

Haru sighs quietly, pulling off his gardening gloves and setting them to the side before standing. “Let’s go.”

If this gardening excursion has done nothing else, at least it’s shined a light on Rin’s transformation triggers. Because you can bet your sweet behind that as soon as Haru draws him a bath and he steps into the water, the third pair of borrowed shorts are ripped to smithereens.  Haru represses the urge to become irritated, the new knowledge that getting wet sets off Rin’s changes just _barely_ enough to calm the sting of seeing the remains of his shorts floating by without care.  But it makes sense, he guesses as he squeezes shampoo onto his hands and lathers it into Rin’s hair from where he’s kneeling over the side of the bathtub. Mershark. Water. Sea. It makes sense.

Rin’s tail dances slowly in the water, bumping against the edges of the tub every so often. He scoots down just a touch more, his back sliding against the side and elbows resting along the edge while Haru cards his fingers through his hair from behind.  Haru doesn’t know what kind of face he’s making, but it probably can’t be too good. If Rin is anything, it’s fiercely proud. And Haru’s not sure where allowing someone to wash clumps of dirt out of your hair lies on the pride-meter.  But he doesn’t want to start a scene, so he tries adjusting the pressure, experimentally rubbing the pads of his fingers over Rin’s scalp in a closer, more intimate touch.

The water sways back and forth as Rin flicks his tail, apparently very pleased with the sudden change. 

Haru takes that as an approval to continue, carding his fingers through the long, silky maroon hair and watching as Rin tilts his head back, his eyes closing contently as he affectionately bares his neck.

Oh.

“Uh…hands…” Haru says stupidly, taking one of Rin’s hands from the edge and using the lather he’s already worked up to wash away at the dirt there.

Rin doesn’t seem perturbed by it. On the contrary, he simply continues his lounging, letting Haru slide his fingers through his own — over his palm — between the slight grayish webbing that gives way to more silvery shine below his knuckles.

Haru ignores that warmth in his chest — always the _warmth —_ dropping Rin’s hand into the water to work on the other considerably filthier one.  “You’re ridiculous,” he grumbles when he’s got most of the dirt washed away, “this could’ve been avoided.”

Rin tilts his head back even farther, his eyes opening to glance up at Haru, questioning and upside-down.

More warmth. “Yes _you_.”

Rin continues to watch him — there seems to be some sort of consideration happening inside that fishy brain of his — and the prolonged eye-contact is starting to make Haru uncomfortable.

“What?”

That’s when Rin turns right-side-up in his spot and uses the hold Haru’s already got on his hand to pull him forward, Haru’s body lurching over the side and into the bathtub with an enormous splash as his ass hits against the bottom of it, his knees bent and arched over the solidness of Rin’s tail.

Haru glares, clothes clinging and face heating up and chest way too tight and: “ _Rin_.”  


But Rin is smirking. _Smirking_. And he’s taking some of the soap from his hair into his hands and he’s threading his fingers through Haru’s dark bangs — something lighting up to an uncomfortable degree inside Haru’s very soul when he feels those fingers work against him.

He makes to get out of the tub, his hands grasping at the edge, but before he can get a good hold, two arms are wrapping around his middle and pulling him back down — down into the water — down into Rin’s lap again.

Haru sighs, his insides on fire from being so close. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy a good soak in the bathtub. It’s just… “Ugh, _Rin._ ”

But Rin is very much amused. Very much interested. And Haru’s almost positive that he’ll need an act of divine power to get him out of this bathroom with the way he’s being held like this.  So he sits, arms crossed and scowl in place as Rin mimics all the things Haru just did for him, Rin’s tail fin gliding smoothly over his feet every so often.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

If you ask Haru if he keeps thinking about the bathtub incident for the rest of the day, he’ll swiftly and firmly deny it.

…

…that’s it. 

That’s all for right now.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

 

The teenagers have broken into the lighthouse again. Miss A. calls him and tells him to go clean it up without really _telling_ him to go clean it up. But he knows enough by now to decipher her meaning.

He heads toward the door, Rin distracted by the pictures in one of the books that’s left out for him. “It shouldn’t take too long. I’ll be back, okay?” 

Rin nods without looking up and then Haru’s out the door, halfway down the third step of the stairs before stopping in his tracks.

…wait.

The door creaks on its hinges as Haru slowly looks back inside. There’s Rin. With the book. Nothing out of the ordinary. But… 

“…did you just nod?”

Rin glances up from a glossy illustration of a whale shark, blinking unresponsively at him.  But Haru’s…almost 99% sure…

 “I’ll be back…” he goes for it again, testing the waters, “…okay?”

 Rin’s brows come together in what looks like impatience, but then he does it again. He nods.

And Haru’s sort of having this little epiphany moment here.

Interesting.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

It’s because Haru’s said it repeatedly — that’s why Rin probably knows what _I’ll be back_ means. And he’s most likely just picked up the whole nodding thing from seeing him do it so much. (Haru’s not exactly a talker, in case this isn’t already excessively obvious.)

_Shriek~_

“Shut up, Hibiki,” Haru frowns, dropping the rest of the empty beer bottles in the trash can outside as the seagull perches nearby.  Sometimes he swears that stupid bird can read minds.

“Ah, Haru! There you are!”  Makoto’s voice rolls in with the tide, smiling and hand raised in a friendly wave as he makes his way toward the lighthouse.

Haru nods at him, the surprise of his friend randomly showing up waring off after the fifteenth time.

“We’re going to dinner soon. Wanna come?”

Hibiki flutters off the railing as Haru climbs the stairs so he can continue cleaning and be done with this. “Who’s ‘we’?”

Makoto’s pace quickens into a little trot, reaching the door and opening it before Haru can. “Everyone.”

Haru passes through with another nod and grabs the broom that’s propped up against the wall. Time for part two. 

“I think we’re just going to that place down the street.”

“Mm.”

“They have that nice mackerel miso soup that you love so much.”

The broom halts mid-sweep, Makoto’s singsongy voice and the promise of beautifully salty mackerel that he doesn’t have to cook himself getting the best of him.  Deep breath. “Fine.”

“Great!” Makoto’s typing something into his phone — probably alerting the others of his success. “You should bring Rin too.”

Haru glances up at him, the broom stilling in his hands once more. Because surely he didn’t just hear that right. “Really?”

But Makoto doesn’t seem any less on board than usual, the offer coming across as genuine as can be. “Well yeah. If he’s got amnesia, he should be exposed to as many things as possible, right?”

It…actually makes a lot of sense — if that were the case, that is. But can Rin handle being around other people again? And more importantly, can Haru handle Rin handling being around other people again?  “Sorry he bit you,” he offers, the sounds of the surf outside almost swallowing it up.

Makoto’s smile is just as genuine as his invitation, if not even more. “It’s alright. I’m sure it’s pretty scary to be in his shoes right now, don’t you think?”

Haru doesn’t say anything — hasn’t…really thought about that, to be honest.

Makoto slips his phone back into his pocket, tone gentle and understanding. “Who am I to say what’s reasonable and what’s not for someone who’s just figuring everything out again?”

It cuts into Haru a little deeper than he’d like to admit, the realization dawning on him that maybe he was too hard on Rin last night. He knows he couldn’t have just let it go without saying anything, but he supposes he didn’t have to be _that_ drastic.

“Haru?”

Hibiki screeches outside. Probably up on the balcony railing. And now Makoto’s regarding him with this tiny grin of encouragement.

Haru slowly begins to sweep the broom across the floor at a normal pace, his back turning to his friend. “We’ll be there,” he says. 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

The first great challenge of preparing for dinner is trying to find an outfit for Rin that doesn’t scream “HELLO EVERYTHING I’M WEARING BELONGS TO HARU”. It’s not until being pinned under the clock that Haru realizes almost all of his clothing is either A) swimming related, or B) plastered with his favorite underwater video game character and therefore so very obviously his. But he manages to find some relatively normal clothes despite the fact.

The second great challenge of preparing for dinner is trying to get Rin to actually put the normal clothes _on_. It’s even more of a struggle than the first.

“Wear this,” he insists, chucking the shirt at Rin’s face on his way from the closet.

Rin is unsurprisingly unimpressed. 

“You have to,” Haru insists with little inflection, all too familiar with the fact that Rin has been living without shirts for literally his entire life and also makes this very obvious by refusing each of Haru’s attempts during his entire stay.

Foreseeably, Haru’s adamancy doesn’t go over too well with Rin, who holds the simple white t-shirt out by the sleeve and examines it _not_ like it’s still one of his first interactions with one, but like he’s simply appalled by the choice in style.

Haru’s patience is thinning. “Okay listen…"  It’s then that Rin gets to his feet, dropping the rejected shirt into Haru’s unsuspecting hands as he passes and makes his way to the closet without so much as a glance.

Haru bristles. This is it. This is how he’s going to lose his cool.

The sound of metal clanking against itself draws him begrudgingly over to the closet, where Rin has apparently made his selection and is half-heartedly trying to get it off the wire hanger.  When Haru comes up beside him, Rin turns, holding his arm straight out with his palm to the ceiling as he waits.

Haru blinks tiredly. Okay. He doesn’t know what that means.

“I got it,” he grumbles, passing up the gesture and tugging the black tank top off the hanger. “Here.”

Rin snatches the shirt from him without further ado, Haru’s eye twitching only once in aggravation at the sound of a slight tear of fabric as Rin finagles it over his head.

They’re late because of it, surprise surprise. And Makoto sends him a text noting what table they’re all sitting at and that he’s already taken it upon himself to explain Rin’s “amnesia situation” to the others. He doesn’t outright say that he does it so Haru doesn’t have to be under the gun with everyone’s attention on him, but Haru knows that’s why he does it — just another reason why he’s so embarrassingly fond of their friendship.

It’s also helpful for another reason, though. A reason that Haru doesn’t really think about on their walk over to the restaurant, Rin wide-eyed and in awe at everything they pass — the large storefronts — the cats skittering across the sidewalk — the cars that he squares up and glares daggers at as they drive by. Because Haru doesn’t really take into consideration that this is going to be Rin’s first time around groups of people. It’s only been the two of them (plus one infamous visit from Makoto) for the entire five days he’s been on land. So when Haru opens the door to the restaurant, the tiny bell attached to it jingling a dainty hello to them, he doesn’t expect to be grabbed by the shirt and yanked back outside without any warning.

Haru stumbles, coughing and rubbing at where the collar of his shirt has constricted around his throat as the door slams shut behind him.

“What…” he croaks, “…the hell.”

It’s then that the reality of the situation is made clear, because it’s then that he sees Rin. Slowly pacing back and forth. Eyes locked unwaveringly onto the door.  Haru glances over his own shoulder, the chatter of the restaurant goers mostly normal in his own brain — but he didn’t think about Rin.

“Oh.”

Rin’s pace is true, stalking back and forth and his teeth glinting in the sun as he bares them at the people inside.

The two of them could just leave. It’s not exactly rare for Haru to ditch plans in favor of staying home. But somehow this seems like it’s actually important — like this is something Rin needs if he’s planning on successfully staying on land, no matter how long.

“Rin,” Haru starts, not exactly experienced in giving pep-talks on the fly (or at all), but definitely used to hearing them from Makoto and Coach Sasabe. “You can do it.”

It’s unclear if his less than powerful words of encouragement have taken root, or even _reached_ Rin for that matter, but he hasn’t stopped pacing, and Haru figures that’s the first thing to tackle.

“Hey.” Rin startles when Haru reaches out, a hand on each shoulder to not only ground him, but stop him from looking any more like a shark on the hunt. “Relax.”

And he’s not sure if it’s what he said, or if it’s because Rin’s being physically forced to calm down and focus, but his predatory scowl morphs into one of simple irritation. But it’s enough, and after a moment or two of pointed eye-contact to seal the deal, Rin’s shoulders relax, and Haru leads them back into the restaurant.

“Over here!” It’s Nagisa who summons them to the table, kneeling on the booth seat and waving a hand over his head when he spots them. They’re all there — him and Rei and Makoto and Sousuke, their food already arrived and steaming in front of them. 

Haru slides in next to Makoto first, nodding at the empty space next to him when Rin simply continues to stand at the edge of the table.

“We haven’t seen you in forever, Haru-chan,” Nagisa pouts before reaching next to himself and snagging a mini-dumpling from Rei’s plate. “It’s been days!” 

“That’s because Haru’s kind of got his hands full,” Makoto answers for him (as is customary), glancing over for confirmation. “Right, Haru?”

Haru turns his attention back at the mention of his name, Rin finally cooperating and sliding into the spot next to him with a frown. “Oh… Yeah.” Maybe they should switch seats so Rin’s sitting across from Rei and not _Sousuke_.

“What’s the deal?” Speak of the devil. “Tachibana wasn’t very helpful with the details.”

“N-now Sousuke,” Makoto chuckles hesitantly, “There aren’t even really a lot of details anyway, right, Haru?”

Again, with the name-mentioning. “Right.”

Sousuke stares at him, fully unconvinced, and then directs his analyzing stare right at Rin.

Great.

“Alright, you two. The point is that we’re finally all able to have a meal together, isn’t it?” It’s Rei who is, as usual, the voice of reason at a table of conflicting personalities. “Excuse us for not introducing ourselves, Rin-san. This is Nagisa, Sousuke, I heard you’ve already met Makoto, and I’m Rei. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

Haru sneaks a peek at Rin, less than surprised at the blank and very uninterested stare that he’s offering in response.  “He doesn’t talk,” he explains.

The amused grin stretching across Sousuke’s face as he takes a sip of water is unreal. “Oh, so you two’re getting along just fine then.”

“Ah good—our waitress is here!” Makoto cuts in with an over-enthusiastic smile. “Haru, Rin, sorry we didn’t wait for you to order but Nagisa insisted.”

“It’s fine,” Haru mumbles, Nagisa snickering in the background as the waitress comes to a stop at the end of the table. “Mackerel miso soup,” he says without bothering to look at the menu.

“And for you, sir?”

“He’ll have the same.”

Sousuke’s smirking shortly again from across the table, Haru choosing to ignore it not only so he can place Rin’s order, but also so he can subtly end the threatening stare that Rin’s currently giving the waitress.

“Oh, Haru-chan! There’s another presentation of our aquatic show at the aquarium this weekend!” Leave it to Nagisa to keep the conversation constantly changing and untrackable. “You should come since you’ve missed all the other ones.”

_‘Missed’._

“I’ll see if there’s time,” Haru answers with a noncommittal sip of complimentary tea.

“Nagisa-kun does a remarkable job narrating the whole thing,” Rei fondly adds, “I have to say, his enthusiasm is really what takes the performance to a whole new level.”

“Yeah, yeah! So you should come already, Haru-chan!” Nagisa’s whining now — practically kneeling on the seat again. “Everyone else has seen it but you!”

Haru highly doubts that. “Yamazaki?”

“I’m always on call,” Sousuke’s quick with his couldn’t-be-bothered attitude, “I don’t have time for things like that.”

Haru rolls his eyes. “Big-shot policeman.”

“Oh right, Nanase. Like sweeping up a shitty lighthouse is anything to brag about—”

“Your mackerel miso soups, gentlemen!”

The petty bickering that everyone has come to expect when Haru and Sousuke are present comes to a crashing halt by the two bowls being placed on the table, one in front of Haru, and the other in front of Rin. 

It should be second-nature to check up on Rin at this point — to notice the confused and also highly dissatisfied look that he’s giving the meal — but Haru is nothing if not motherly-instincts-impaired, so it takes him a good three minutes to realize that Rin isn’t eating, and is instead eyeing up the slab of meat across from him on Sousuke’s plate.  By the time he notices, it’s far too late, because Rin has already reached across the table, grabbed the forkful of meat that’s currently halfway to Sousuke’s mouth, and stuffed it into his own.

Sousuke’s movements halt, mouth still open and hand still raised as he watches Rin swallow the stolen helping without so much as a single chew. 

Haru decides now would be a good time to throw himself off a cliff. “Rin, _don’t_ —" 

“It’s fine,” Sousuke interrupts before he can even finish, tone brisk but steady as he slides his plate across the table and switches it out with the bowl of soup that Rin hasn’t even touched. 

Rin watches him, brows raising in genuine surprise as the entire slab of meat is pushed in front of him. 

And the only person more surprised here is Haru. “You don’t have to—”

“Leave it, Nanase,” Sousuke insists, the trademark coolness evident in his voice even as he starts in on the soup without so much as a glance in anyone’s direction. 

Haru shuts up, dumbfounded.

Makoto taps his fingers on the edge of the table uneasily.

Rin abandons the fork for the more direct approach of taking the slab of meat with both hands and tearing into it with his teeth instead.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

The black tank top is pulled off and thrown onto the floor as soon as they walk through the front door, Rin stepping over it nonchalantly and leaving Haru to sigh as he picks up after him.

“You shouldn’t steal other people’s food,” he says halfheartedly, not even flicking the light switch on because the moonlight pouring in from the door to the backyard is plenty. “I don’t know how you did it. Sousuke’s an asshole.” 

Rin turns at that, the shorts that he was forced to put on already unbuttoned and sliding down over the curve of his ass.

Haru adverts his eyes, busying himself with more grumbling so he doesn’t have to notice the way the moonlight hits off Rin’s pale skin — the smooth plane of his chest — the lean muscles of his abdomen — the subtle v of his hips that leads down to where the cloth boxers that Haru begrudgingly let him borrow now rest. It’s indecent, is what it is. Even if Haru can feel the warmth spreading throughout his body just from the sight of him. And suddenly the the mood in the room has cranked up several notches.

The sudden few steps that Rin take in his direction have Haru unnerved, his brow furrowing defensively. “What?”

But Rin just keeps on, movements smooth and fluid like he’s underwater — like the moonlight draped over him is nothing more than the embrace of the sea — calm and welcoming and tempting.   

Haru swallows. Feels his heartbeat picking up like he’s just finished a lap. Takes a step back when Rin’s suddenly much closer than he realized. “I’m—…it’s late…”

It’s not late. It’s not even nine o’clock. But there’s something deep inside Haru telling him that it’s okay. That the heat in his chest is good. That it’s alright to feel like his pulse could crack ribs. And Haru doesn’t like it.

The solidness of the wall creeps up behind him, his back pressing against it without warning, and the warmth of Rin’s hands coming to rest on his waist is far too intense for what he assumes it should be. 

“Rin,” he says warningly, but his voice isn’t what it’s supposed to be either — quiet and just short of wavering.

He swallows the lump in his throat just as Rin leans in, their foreheads resting against each other like before. But this time it’s different, because this time Rin dips his head even more, brushing the side of his nose against Haru’s in a slow drag — a _nuzzle._  

Haru’s heart sinks into his stomach, the closeness and the touching and the everything just too much for him to handle. Because Rin’s hands are so sure on his waist. And he can feel Rin’s breath ghost temptingly over his mouth. And it’s all just too much out of nowhere and at _all_ and just —  


Haru leans his head away, Rin’s hand dragging temptingly across his stomach as he quickly pulls away from the wall and away from _Rin_ and away from the stifling heat that makes Haru feel like he’s going to melt right down to nothing. He knows he should feel bad and he knows he should explain himself and “this feels weird, this feels weird, this feels weird, I don’t know about this” but he doesn’t. He just keeps moving without looking back.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Haru doesn’t know what that nuzzle thing meant. What Rin was thinking. What Rin’s thinking _now_. But he spent the whole night in the living room while Haru slept in his bed, milling around but so very quiet in his footfalls. And now that the sun is peeking through the blinds, casting fine stripes of light across the bedsheets, Haru thinks it’s about time to come out from hiding.

He drags himself down the hallway, the sight of someone standing in front of the bathroom sink only registering once he’s passed the bathroom entirely. A few steps backward reveal the early morning riser to be Rin himself, one hand resting on the edge of the sink while the other reaches up, touching tentatively across his cheekbone as he stares straight ahead at his reflection.

Haru quietly watches for a moment, slumping against the doorframe and exhausted presence apparently not interrupting anything.

Rin tilts forward a bit. Brings his face closer to the pane of glass. 

Is this the first time he’s actually seen himself in a mirror? 

“Yeah,” Haru says quietly, eyes still half-lidded but tone lacking its usual monotonous drag. “That’s you.”

Rin takes a second to glance over and acknowledge him before returning to the mirror, tilting his head to examine the boney curve of his jawline.

And what a weird epiphany that must be — seeing yourself for the first time — what you look like — what people see you as.

Haru takes a step into the bathroom — slouches a hip against the edge of the sink and looks into the mirror as well. He points at the reflection, his finger leaving a light smudge over the taller boy’s cheekbone. “Rin,” he articulates quietly.

And he’s not sure if it’s his imagination or not, but Rin’s lips part — almost in recognition — like he hears what Haru’s saying and is retaining it.

Rin lets his mouth drop open, his tongue sliding experimentally over the sharp points of his teeth before doing the same with a finger. Haru doesn’t have the time to protest when his mouth is next, Rin grasping lightly at Haru’s jaw until his purpose is understood and Haru opens up too. He can see it coming a mile away — the interest with which Rin runs the pad of his pointer finger over the flat edges of Haru’s top row of teeth, his brows furrowing at the difference in shape and sharpness between them (and understandably so).

“S’cuz yoa shahk,” Haru garbles around the curious finger that’s now made its way to one of his wisdom teeth. Because apparently shark teeth are stupid-sharp the entire way back, unlike human teeth. 

Rin grins, amused with both his discovery and the _not_ amused look Haru’s currently throwing him.

Haru huffs, his touching quota maxed out for the day already. “…’kay thas-enugh.”

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Coach Sasabe has called for a full-day practice in order to make up for the days he’s had to miss while working his second job down at the local swimming facility (something about managing older kids who teach younger kids how to swim or something — Haru’s not 100% on it and has accepted the fact that he needs to start paying more attention when people are telling him about their lives).

But that’s besides the point. The point is, Haru’s trying to find someone to come make sure Rin doesn’t get into any funny business when he’s gone, this being the longest he’s ever been alone and everything. Except Makoto can’t do it. And Nagisa and Rei are working, as usual. Which means Haru has to grit his teeth, summon an unreal amount of self-control, and ask his last possible option.

_“Wow, Nanase. I’m almost positive that this is the first time you’ve called me after all these years.”_

Haru ignores the mocking surprise in Sousuke’s tone, his irritation already pounding at the wall of self-control he just tried to build for himself. “Are you free?”

Sousuke’s answer to his question comes in two parts — broken up and skeptical — _“For…what?” —_ like the stars have shifted and Haru’s calling about something as ridiculous as spending time together or something.

As if he’d ever. “I need someone to watch Rin.”

_“Watch him? What is he, a dog?”_

Haru lets his eyes close, the integrity of his self-control not looking too good at this point. “Can you do it or not?”

He literally never asks anything of this guy — barely even talks to him on his own if he doesn’t have to. And now it’s just one thing that he needs from him. One stupid thing.

Sigh. _“Yeah, I guess I can find time.”_

And that’s all Haru needs, adding “’Til six o’clock,” and hanging up before Sousuke can slip in his irked protest.

It takes Haru ten solid laps at practice to get the image of Sousuke showing up at his door out of his head. Or more specifically, he supposes, the look on Rin’s face when it happens. Or even more specifically, if he _really_ supposes he’s going to be honest with himself, the way Rin’s whole persona had lit up a bit — not enough to be immediately obvious to the untrained eye, but enough for Haru to catch on with a confused frown. And if that wasn’t enough, the second Sousuke had actually stepped into the house, Rin was over there, making his presence known when he couldn’t even be bothered to get up for Haru only seconds earlier. It’s ungrateful, is what it is. Unappreciative.

Haru sinks into the pool until his mouth is covered and mutters obscenities into the water.

He skips showering off in the locker room and heads straight home, not surprised but somehow even more ticked off when he opens his front door and sees Sousuke silently reading something on the couch, Rin sitting comfortably next to his feet on the floor.

Well would you look at that.

“I’m back,” Haru deadpans as he lets his bag drop to the floor with little grace.

Both Sousuke and Rin look up at the same time, the latter straightening and the trace of a fond smile dancing across his lips. 

Well…that’s better, at least.

“You smell beautiful,” Sousuke mumbles sarcastically from his spot on the couch before going back to whichever of Haru's books is in his hand.

Haru frowns. He can smell the chlorine on himself just as easily as they can, thank you very much. “You can go now.”

Sousuke must hear the pointedness of his suggestion, because he snaps the book shut and regards it with an unenthusiastic, “ _Sea Lore_ , huh? Are you in here at all, Nanase?”

Haru’s shoes clatter to the floor as he kicks them off and rolls his eyes, stepping into the kitchen without a word.

“Local Creature Lives In Bath And Never Communicates With Humans,” Sousuke’s voice travels as he continues on like he’s reading it straight from the book. “Tends To Harbor Speechless Amnesia Patients As Kin.”

“ _Bye_ , Yamazaki.” Haru’s blunt now — even more so than usual. The sudden presence of Rin by his side only catches him off guard a little bit.

He can hear Sousuke chuckle quietly to himself as he slides the book back onto the shelf and then makes for the door. “Yeah, yeah. Take six whole hours out of my day and don’t even thank me.”

Haru huffs. “Thanks.” He semi means it but it doesn’t sound like it even a little bit.

Sousuke just chuckles again, shaking his head, “Later,” and then he’s disappearing out the door.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

One of the things Rei did when he secured his job at the lab was upgrade to a better laptop — something that could handle all the data he collected without slowing down to the pace of a lethargic inchworm. It made sense, all in all. But what didn’t make sense, is that he gave his old laptop to Haru. 

True, Haru didn’t have a computer of his own and he barely uses his cellphone to communicate, let alone the search engine installed on there, so in the grand scheme of things he guess it _did_ sort of make sense. But the laptop’s been  getting acquainted with the local dust bunnies  in one of his desk drawers ever since, not even a blip on his radar — that is, until tonight.

Tonight, Haru pulls it out of the drawer and sweeps away the dust bunnies before opening the lid and turning it on. Tonight, his bedroom lights up with the eerie bluish glow of the screen as he clicks on the first browser he sees and types in _shark facts_ , several links that boast the best information possible popping up before his very eyes.

He clicks through all of them, driven by the looming desperation to understand Rin’s more bizarre habits and too self-isolating to approach Rei with a mental list himself. 

_Don’t be fooled by the size and sharpness of some shark’s teeth! Carnivorous sharks are known to use their incredible incisors to tear into their prey and then swallow the loose pieces of flesh whole!_

Ah. So that explains the whole ‘no chewing’ thing that Rin’s so fond of. 

What else?

_Most sharks are constantly moving, making them difficult to track and research. Even when it’s time to rest, they will slowly drift in the water to keep the required amount of oxygen flow through their gills._

Barely any sleeping. Constant wandering throughout the house with no discernible destination. Haru’s already familiar with that.

_A shark’s nose is extremely sensitive! Many divers have found that rubbing a shark’s snout will cause them to become mellow and entranced — but don’t try this at home!_

Haru pauses, blinks, and then glances shortly over to where Rin’s sitting a few feet away. 

He’s going to try this at home.

Rin is first and foremost startled by the sudden intrusion, regarding Haru’s pointer and middle fingers with an alarmed, cross-eyed blink. But when Haru does it — gently rubs his fingers over the bridge of Rin’s nose in a slow, hypnotizing drag — Rin’s gaze slips into something hazy and far-off. It only takes five short seconds for his eyes to peacefully drift shut, his head tilting and nose softly nudging forward against the stroke of Haru’s fingers.

Haru watches with morbid curiosity.

Interesting.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

The night is summery but looming with something cool, and Haru’s nerves are on edge as they approach the lighthouse without a word. It’s the first time since that night a week and a half ago that Rin’s been this far from the house — this far from what’s safe — this close to the sea, and the tension rolling in with the waves isn’t easy to ignore. Haru leads them closer, forcing his reasoning for bringing Rin down here to repeat in his head like a mantra and battle away the doubts that are lurking in the shadows. Rin needs water. Rin needs something he knows. Rin needs the sea like Haru needs to be alone, and this is the way he can give it to him.

“I’ll be in there,” he says, pointing up at the lighthouse, but his voice is weak against the breeze. “So whenever you’re done…”

His sentiment fades out but it doesn’t matter, because Rin’s attention has been on the shoreline ever since it’s come into view — the waves washing in against the rocks and pulling him closer as the ebb away.

Haru stops himself from watching him before he can see the glint in Rin’s eye, clearly not the only one with something brooding in the back of his mind. Everything will be fine. Rin’s going to do his thing and be where he needs to be for a bit and everything will be fine.

_Everything will be fine._

Rin takes a step toward the water and something pulls at Haru’s very core, “You’re—…” his hand reaching out but stopping halfway because—… Because… “You’ll be back…right?”

It surprises him more than anything, the way he hangs onto Rin’s answer like an anchor in the storm. The way it hurts to wait for it. The way something lights up inside his soul when Rin turns around, a tranquil smile slowly dancing its way across his lips, and nods.

Haru feels it. And then Rin turns back toward the shoreline, and Haru turns to the stairs, and he climbs into the lighthouse at the sound of the water's surface breaking.

He cleans on autopilot. Cleans without realizing he’s cleaning. Cleans until the interior is shinier and better put together than the day he accepted the job. He climbs the stairs and washes the panes of glass surrounding the lantern and climbs back down without noticing Hibiki’s friendly squawks. 

The tide is low when he reaches where it meets the land — where he finds his shorts left bunched on the ground — where he calmly scans the horizon for signs of life. 

“Rin?”

The moon’s reflection glitters across the constantly shifting surface. 

Hibiki calls down from his perch up on the balcony railing. 

The breeze picks up off the water.

“Rin?”

He waits. And waits. And looks down the shoreline where the water stretches on and on. And when he waits for a while longer with no answer in return, he starts his way along the base of the lighthouse, his footing sure on the large slippery rocks there. He makes it all the way to the front — all the way to where he can no longer see the shoreline and the town and all that’s in front of him is just blue. Just water. Just the cool grip of something as it tightens around his heart and hangs there.

He tries once more, “Rin?” because there’s a part of him that selfishly wants him to not be ready — to still be unstable enough to come back — to need help — to need Haru.

The water calmly hits off the rock he’s chosen, and just as he’s making mental preparations to leave, a dark shape shifts under the water.

Haru waits. Catches the hope rising inside of him. Catches himself leaning closer. Catches himself holding his breath until…

Until…

The surface of the water breaks, a head of maroon hair tossing back, a smile so familiar it hurts Haru to look at, Rin rising from the sea until their faces are so close that it can’t be anything but real.

Haru’s not familiar with this feeling of having his heart give out and then kick-started and functioning again in a matter of minutes. It makes him slouch back against the lighthouse wall with a heavy breath, Rin sinking back down until only his head and shoulders are above water as he watches. He did not sign up for this. He did not sign up for having an apparently significant emotional tie with a mershark that he’s known for not even two weeks now. 

Rin’s fingers wrap around Haru’s ankle, dampening the skin there as he tugs playfully.  But Haru’s still in the middle of an identity crisis — much too unstable to slip into the water for a night swim when he’d otherwise have no issue. “Not right now,” he says tiredly, waving Rin off when the hold on his ankle remains true. “Rin, not right now.”

Rin must accept his turndown, because he lets go and then disappears in a graceful backflip that Haru’s not even sure should be possible, his back arching impressively and tail the last to disappear into the water. 

The relief that washes over Haru as he sits there and watches Rin swim is troubling. Because if Rin truly belongs anywhere, it’s here. In the sea. In _his_ sea. But the relief is still flooding Haru’s veins to the tips of his fingers. And when Rin pulls himself up on the rock next to him, his tail fin shining a silver that rivals the moonlight, he waits for the inevitable transformation, and then they grab the shorts on the shoreline and start making their way home.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

The dream starts like this — dark and hazy and waist-deep in something that’s looser than water but almost impossible to move in. Haru drags his feet against the silty bottom but he doesn’t get anywhere because there’s nowhere to get to because everywhere around him is this sort of misty burgundy but he keeps moving. Keeps trying. Keeps—The liquid around him is thicker now and it grasps at his ankles and then all of the sudden there’re red eyes. Red eyes and red hair and two hands that settle on his shoulders and pull him down into the liquid before he can close his mouth but the liquid doesn’t choke him — doesn’t drown him — the lips pressed against his keep the thickness at bay and Haru opens his eyes and it’s R—

They’re on the seabed — the burgundy haze above them and the silty floor shifting against his back and those lips are all over him — down his neck — across his collarbone — along the inside of his thigh and Haru suddenly realizes that his clothes are go—were they ever there in the beggini—

They’re deep deep deep in the ocean and the figure’s above him — red eyes red hair red— Haru sees the distinct glisten of a tail fin but his senses are overloaded because his body is flooding over with warmth as he’s bit softly — ground against — thrust into so smoothly and nicely that his mouth drops open and the liquid fills him and he can’t see but he can feel the sickly hot pleasure uncurling in his stomach with every thrust — every flick of silver hips against his own — every drag of sharp teeth down his collarbone and he opens his eyes and it’s hazy and dark but most of all it’s Ri—

Haru jerks awake with a strangled cry, his top half jolting up so quickly that he gets a head rush and doesn’t even notice that Rin’s got a worried look and a hand fixed on his arm.

Because holy shit. Holy shit holy shit holy shit. 

The air around him is so stuffy and Haru’s panting, his chest heaving as he runs a hand through his hair and down his sweaty face, the images of his dream still so clear in his mind. Rin shakes his arm a little, his frown and furrowed brow clearly stemming from a feeling of worry as he watches. But Haru doesn’t want to think about how Rin knew to wake him up. Doesn’t want to think about the noises he was making as he dreamed — the _words_ that might’ve slipped past his lips. 

“Go to sleep.” He aims for sternness but it comes out breathy, his face so hot and his body so turned on and he’s so hard that it _hurts._ He lies back down and pulls the bedsheets over his face and rolls to the side so his back is facing Rin. 

Rin’s presence hovers for a moment, seemingly at odds, but then there’s the sound of shifting fabric and the floorboards creaking and then he's gone. And Haru’s alone. And the dream is replaying in his head in black and white snapshots and he can’t fight the overwhelming desire to slip a shaky hand under the waistband of his underwear and touch himself.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

_Not much is known about the mershark in present day, however countless stories of their existence can be traced back throughout the centuries. Born from sand and the ocean surf (according to legend), the mershark will remain in the sea until its coming of age, when it will, for an uncertain length, shed its tail and journey upon dry land for the first time. Many accounts begin with the discovery of a stranger, lost and unable to communicate with human speech. It is from this discovery that the mershark will slip its way into the lives of others, its confusion and misplaced purpose causing it to act out violently and without guilt. Only by returning to the sea from which it has come can the mershark find peace, forever destined to lurk the shores and those near._

_\- an excerpt from Sea Lore Vol. 3_

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayo~ for those who are interested, the playlist has been [updated](http://whatthebodygraspsnot.tumblr.com/behindtheseaplaylist) ^_^

 

Calling Sousuke again is _not_ something Haru’s fired up about. But he’s got practice and everyone’s busy and just— _god_ it’s a good thing he likes Rin. 

_“Two calls in one week. What is it, a full moon?”_

Haru grips his cellphone, his eyes closing as he tries to summon patience. Yeah, it’s a _damn_ good thing he likes him. “I need you to watch Rin.”

There’s some shuffling of papers or something, and then: _“Again? What about Tachibana?”_

“He’s shadowing.”

_“And the Dream Team?”_

“Working,” Haru huffs. Because it’s like Sousuke thinks he hasn’t already gone through all these options in his head before resorting to the last choice again — well, _his_ last choice. Rin’s first, no doubt.

_“Fine, then.”_ Sousuke’s response is subtly annoyed but not angry, the shuffling of papers becoming louder. _“But he has to come over here. I’ve got paperwork that I can’t be lugging around town.”_

Haru’s spirit drops a little at that — the added trip that he’ll have to take. But he supposes he can deal if it means Rin’s not going to be alone while he’s gone. He steels himself, alright then, slips in: “We’ll be over in ten,” and then hangs up before Sousuke can protest.

Sousuke’s considerably more irritated than he was on the phone when he answers the door, Haru waiting impatiently on his doorstep while Rin looks around with untainted intrigue behind him.

“Christ, Nanase. How ‘bout a little more warning next time?”

Haru supposes his irritation is justified. “Fine,” he says, and then he’s pulling Rin away from the rabbit that he’s currently squaring up against, directing him through the doorway. 

Rin glances around the interior of Sousuke’s front room with the same amount of innocent intrigue as he had on the way here, eyes landing on every window and book and piece of furniture. 

“Rin,” Haru says, reaching out to nudge at his arm to get his attention. Rin turns around, and Haru makes sure there’s eye-contact. “I’ll be back, okay?”

He gets a nod in return, a small smile peeking through.

Sousuke watches with an unmoved blink.

“Cute.”

“Shut up.”

And then Haru’s gone.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Practice is hell, and it’s not just because he’s got leftover Yamazaki-Irritation. Truth is, Haru can’t stop thinking about that dream he had a couple nights ago — hasn’t been able to shake it from his mind unless something is important enough to have his complete and undivided attention. Otherwise it’s looming there — the image of Rin dragging him down — moving above him — the distinct sensation of being thoroughly fucked even though Haru’s like 99% sure you’re not supposed to feel things so clearly in dreams. But oh, did he feel it. _Damn,_ did he feel it. And he feels the repercussions of it every time the images float back into the forefront of his mind — which is heavy and often. 

And he’s not sure if he’s more concerned about that or the fact that it happened altogether. Because dreams _come_ from somewhere. Your brain doesn't just magically decide that it's going to show you deep in the throes of passion with someone you don’t have at least a _little_ bit of curious interest in. It pulls from what’s already there. And that’s probably what gets him the most, Haru realizes as he pushes off the wall for his final lap. He’s not stupid. He realizes that Rin is good-looking — has some sort of untouchable, ethereal gorgeousness about him that makes it easy to understand why his kind is written about in the way that they are. But Haru thought he was above all that — hasn’t really ever crushed on anyone when his friends were all out there pining and hooking up with people and being stupid about it. That was just never Haru’s thing. But now Rin’s here. And Rin’s close. And Rin’s other-worldly beautiful. And as much as Haru doesn’t want to admit it, his chest is hurting and he’s having dirty dreams about him and just— He doesn’t know. He knows but he doesn’t _want_ to know.

“What’s on your mind, Haruka? You seem a bit off today.” 

Haru zones back in, chest still rising and falling heavily from finishing his lap and Coach Sasabe kneeling down by the pool’s edge. He wants to say ‘nothing’ or wave it off or something but Rin’s still in his head, hovering above him and hands on his waist and mouth on his neck.

He can feel his coach’s eyes on him, friendly as he tries to assess the situation. “Boy trouble?”

Haru glances up at him, eyebrows managing to find a whole new bend of startled confusion all on their own. What the hell? Is it always this easy for people to tell?

“It’s that Tachibana kid, isn’t it? The one you’ve been friends with since grade school? Man, talk about some majorly suppressed feelings—”

“I’m taking five,” Haru cuts in, pulling himself out of the pool but mostly just unsure of how to politely let him know how wrong he is.

“Don’t worry, kid,” he continues, his voice echoing off the high ceiling as Haru makes his way over to the bench and drapes his towel over his head. “The wife’s got this old saying for times like these. _‘What’s meant to be will be’._ Or, wait…was it _‘If it’s meant to be it’ll be’_ … Damn, what was it again? She’s saying it all the time. Something like—well you get the gist.”

Haru lets his coach’s confusion die out as he rubs his hair dry with his towel. 

If only it was as easy as that.

“Yes, sir.”

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Rin seems to be right at home when Sousuke opens the front door, sitting contently amongst a sea of papers that’ve been strewn across the floor. Half of them are organized into specific piles, filled with numbers and printed type and Sousuke’s messy scrawl. The other half are most definitely Rin’s doing — pages and pages of scribbles that show a range of progressively finer control. The obvious first attempt is exiled from the rest — more angry stabs of ink and rips in the paper than anything.  

Haru sighs as Rin grabs at a red pen, holding it in a grip that would win Worst Possible Penmanship by miles. It’s then that he sees the scribbles that’ve somehow made their way off the paper and onto the floor — streaks of black and blue and red across nice wood panelling.

“Sorry,” Haru mumbles, crouching down to asses the damage as Rin picks up a new pen.

But Sousuke doesn’t seem the least bit bothered. “It’ll wipe off.”

He rounds the table in the dining room, messing with something there as Haru stands.

“Rin, let’s go.”

Rin pulls at the cap of the pen but can’t get it loose, his face falling into a scowl after a disproportionate amount of attempts.

“Rin.”

“You should let him draw or whatever,” Sousuke says offhandedly, and the subtle condescension of it, whether it's intentional or not, rubs Haru the wrong way. Like he knows what’s best for Rin after all Haru’s done for him.

He ignores it, frowning as Rin stands and turns toward him with his arm out, palm up.

“I’m just saying he seems to like it.”

“Great.” Haru bends down to gather the mess of papers into one pile so they can leave, because his patience is gone and he’s still thinking about that stupid dream and Rin won’t stop gesturing at him and _god—_ “ _What_ , Rin?” he snaps, standing and resisting the urge to smack the unknown signal away because, “I don’t know what that—”

“It means he needs your help with something.”

Haru blinks. Stares down at Rin’s outstretched hand and then over his shoulder to where Sousuke’s still messing with something at the dining room table.

The considerable amount of silence that follows has Sousuke looking up, obviously noting Haru’s confusion with a grace of an amused smirk. “What? You didn’t know that?”

Haru bristles, something like shame creeping over him as the last time he saw that signal replays in his brain. They were at the closet… Rin couldn’t get that tank top off the hanger… He had yanked a few times and then reached out to Haru with his palm toward the ceiling and… Son of a bitch,Sousuke’s right. 

He snatches the pen out of Rin’s hand, unscrewing the top for him as the need to justify himself quickly grows. “I know what all of them mean.” Because he does. All of them. Except for this one, that is. And the nuzzle thing. But he’s fucking _certain_ he knows more than Sousuke.

He hands the pen back to Rin, the gesture dropping, and Sousuke chuckles shortly from his spot over by the table. “Good for you. Didn’t realize it was a competition, though.”

Haru’s frown deepens, his face heating up as he grabs at Rin’s hand and leads him towards the door without another word.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Okay, so he may have over-reacted. He realizes that now, balls-deep in this aquatic show that Makoto forced them to go to because “C’mon, Haru. Nagisa and Rei are really proud of it and you should support them. Besides, I think you might find you actually enjoy it.”

Haru is not enjoying it. Haru is not enjoying watching the beluga whales swim on command. Haru is not enjoying sitting so far back in the audience because he knows that all it’ll take is one dolphin splash on Rin for the show to really start to get interesting. But most of all, and he really can’t stress this enough, Haru is not enjoying how Rin’s ignoring the aquatic show altogether, instead messing with the small dolphin keychain that's attached to his house key and currently sticking out of his pocket.

“Wow! What a spectacular trick!” Nagisa exclaims into the microphone of his headpiece, walking around the edge of the roped-off water as he narrates the show with a dramatic flourish. “It’s sights like these that you can only see at Iwatobi Aquarium, ladies and gentlemen! How about a big hand for our amazing beluga whales and their loving trainers!” 

The audience erupts with applause, and Rin tugs experimentally at the dolphin keychain. 

“Stop,” Haru mutters with a huff, not even bothering to look at him now that this is the tenth time he’s said it.

Rin continues to poke and prod.

Haru feels hot under the collar.

Makoto regards them with a tiny, amused grin before turning back to the show. (Haru made a point to sit between them after seeing that predatory glint in Rin's eyes when Makoto came to pick them up.)

“Next we have our magnificent bottle-nose dolphins, and an extra special treat as well! Today our oldest dolphin, Daisuke, will be working with the aquatic center’s youngest member — a prodigy in the field of science who’s taken time to connect with this dolphin in particular. Everyone please join me in welcoming the very special Ryugazaki Rei!”

Haru zones back in at that, a spotlight following where Rei now enters the arena to a jaunty tune, black body suit and all.  

Makoto claps.

Haru claps.

Rin pulls on the keychain so hard that Haru scoots across the bench with it, a surprised eyebrow raising as he bumps into him.

“Ryugazaki Rei and Daisuke have been working together for several months! Let’s sit back and see how well they get along!”

An inspiring track of music plays over the loudspeakers as Rei dives into the water, disappearing for a moment before reemerging with the dolphin. Haru wants to be impressed but all he can focus on is how unnecessarily close he is to Rin now. Like, there is absolutely zero reason why they need to be pressed together from the shoulders down. None at all. But do his nerves care about that? Fuck no.

The dolphin crests and goes flying into the air in a front flip but Haru is discreetly watching Rin out of the corner of his eye — the way he stares pointedly at the couple who are sitting in the row in front of them — how the woman hooks her arm with the man’s — how the man smiles contently when she does it.

Haru can’t understand why Rin’s so fixated on them until Rin’s shifting a bit beside him, a hand snaking between Haru’s arm and side and suddenly Rin’s a spitting image of the woman a few feet away — save for, of course, the frown firm on his face as he does it.

Haru swallows, confused and more than a bit unsettled by the sudden stiff affection, no _idea_ what Rin’s trying to get out of this with a frown so obvious as that. But it releases the warm flow in Haru’s chest and he can’t exactly pull away so he just tries to turn his attention back to the show, his foot tapping in his shoe as Rin glares beside him.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  


 

The clouds are rolling in when they get out of the show — the three of them plus The Dream Team (as Sousuke would say if he was here) all walking together to the restaurant down the street from Haru’s to celebrate. The wind picks up and tosses Rin’s hair back from his forehead, and it’s cute and everything, but they need to get to this cafe soon so Haru’s stomach can stop growling at him.

“It was such a surprise to see you just jump into the water like that, Rei,” Makoto muses as they turn the corner. “I had no idea you were working that closely with the animals now.”

“He was amazing, right?” Nagisa chimes in, beaming up at his boyfriend like he’s the very sun.

But Rei just grins and reaches to nudge his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Now now…it’s just the one dolphin, really. It’s nothing compared to all that Nagisa-kun has accomplished.”

“Don’t be so modest,” Makoto smiles warmly before glancing up at the grey skies above with a surprised: “Oh? It’s starting starting to rain.”

Haru holds a hand out, drops of water landing one by one and collecting in his palm.

Nagisa waves it off. “We’re almost there anyway.” 

“I suppose it can’t be helped.” Rei is quick to agree. “A little rain never hurt anyone, right?”

As if stepping up and accepting his challenge, the rain picks up to a more steady drizzle and a low rumbling of thunder.

“Ahh! It heard you, Rei-chan!” Nagisa exclaims, the light rainfall forcing their leisurely stroll into a considerable hustle.

Rei’s flustered response is lost on Haru, who’s pace slows when he feels Rin’s fingers wrap urgently around his wrist. When he turns, Rin’s staring at him, bangs pathetically wet and brows furrowed worriedly as he holds his hand up to Haru’s face, the tinge of grey shine that creeps across his knuckles feeling like a punch to the gut.

Shit.

Haru glances around quickly for a safe spot but finds nothing but crowded storefronts and the small slits beginning to form on the sides of Rin’s neck. No. There’s nowhere to go. They have to get home before his bottom half changes and there’s more to worry about than a little rain. 

“Honestly, Nagisa-kun, it’s like you think the sky has a mind of it’s—”

“Rin doesn’t feel good,” Haru blurts out, careful to use his body to shield enough of Rin as he starts them into a quick walk  backwards , his friends’ faces all dropping into a menagerie of confusion and concern at his outburst. “We’re leaving.”

They break off into a sprint in the other direction then, the sky opening up into a downpour and Makoto’s shouting “Do you need a hand?” after them and Haru ignores it altogether because he can feel the texture of Rin’s hand changing in his own. They run and they run and they run and Haru’s never been so thankful that his house is close to the cafe because it means they _just_ make it — _just_ throw themselves through the front door before Rin’s collapsing onto his hands and knees in the entryway, head hanging low and wet bangs falling in his face. He reaches down for the shorts with his eyes squeezed shut — half-hearted attempts that have Haru dropping to his knees and pulling them off for him so they don’t rip as his tail forms.

It’s a matter of seconds that separate sanctuary and tragedy.

And they just make it.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

The storm has picked up. It’s pitch black outside. The wind is blowing the rain’s path against the window and Haru pulls up a movie on Rei’s old laptop, positioning it comfortably between his and Rin’s knees as they slouch width-ways on his bed. He’s brain-dead — wants something stupid to latch onto — doesn’t want to think about how tired he is and how badly he wants to move over a few inches and just fall asleep on Rin’s shoulder. (He’s not doing well with this whole ‘craving affection’ thing.)

Thunder claps above them and Haru lets his eyes close for a moment. They’re so much more comfortable now that it’s just them. Now that they’re not around other people. Now that they don’t have to _perform._ Haru can wear his soft oversized home-shirt and blank facial expressions and Rin, well, Rin seems pretty damn comfortable in his classic ‘boxers-only’ getup…something Haru’s still having a bit of a slow time getting used to. 

He shifts, sitting cross-legged and his knee bumping into Rin’s. But Rin doesn’t seem to mind, too entranced by the moving pictures on the screen to probably notice. It’s grossly endearing the way he watches, eyes sparkling as they track the movements and his face lighting up with the blues and greens that the movie projects. Haru catches himself staring, possibly even more entranced than Rin (and that’s saying something).

The dark bedroom shifts colors as the scene on the screen changes — calm greens to warm, deep reds — the perfect backdrop, Haru assumes, for the heavy breathing that’s now replacing the movie’s questionable dialogue.

Haru watches with restlessness as the couple on screen kisses — fiery and passionate and enough to make his stomach turn uneasily. The man buries his face in the woman’s neck and suddenly Rin’s tuned in, his posture straightening by a touch as he watches. Haru can’t help it — can’t help but let his eyes travel over to where Rin’s now hooked, his eyebrows coming together in something like confused interest as the woman lets out an overdramatic sigh, her smile too big for her face.

“Rin…” Haru says warningly.  

Because he knows that face. That’s the face from earlier today. The one from when he was watching the couple sitting in front of them at the aquatic show before he—… 

Before he…

Rin’s eyes are on him, determination unmistakable as he leans forward…closer…tighter… “ _Rin_ …” 

Haru’s brain shuts down when he feels it, the brush of Rin’s lips on his neck — the slow, exploratory way they start to move against him like the man on the screen. And it’s like an atom bomb in Haru’s very equilibrium.

“…R—…” Rin’s kisses are both grounding and loose — open-mouthed and damply hot as his tongue laps over Haru’s skin. They work their way inside of him and Haru’s suddenly warm — so fucking warm — and he reaches out but Rin grabs his wrist and holds it there.

And Haru doesn’t know what to do.

It feels good — the way Rin’s lips press slowly up his neck and across his jawline, his tongue flicking out to lick at the heated skin there — oh _god,_ does it feel good. But it hurts Haru’s chest. And it makes his palms sweaty. And when Rin kisses just below his ear, a sensitive spot Haru didn’t even _know_ about, his mouth drops open with a shaky breath.

“Ri—…”

He doesn’t have control of his body. Can’t calm the manic beat of his pulse as it takes off for the atmosphere. He’s almost positive the couple on screen have stopped kissing by now, but Rin’s just getting started — just realizing that Haru’s body responds extra well when he grazes his teeth over that sensitive spot on his neck and then laps his tongue against it. 

Another shaky breath. Haru can’t swallow the lump in his throat. Can’t fight the overwhelmingly pleasant warmth in his chest and his belly and even lower still. 

“Rin,” he finally says it, breathy and without opening his eyes. But it’s slowly losing its tone of warning with every press of soft lips against heated skin.

Rin presses forward, sucks at that sensitive spot, and Haru’s shirt rides up his back as he leans away with a noise he’ll never admit to making. Rin follows him down, still holding his wrist until Haru’s back hits the mattress and he looks up through heavy-lidded eyes. And Rin’s hovering above him like some sort of confusing flashback to his dream. But his time there’s no burgundy haze. There’s no slippery-thick liquid. There’s just Rin, leaning in to lick his way down the other side of Haru’s neck.

Haru’s eyes nearly roll to the back of his head before dropping closed, the breathy “Wait,” on the tip of his tongue but swallowed down by Rin’s eagerness.

Does he even know what he’s doing? Does he know what this means? Why people do it to each other—

“ _Ah_ ,” Haru hisses, a drag of sharp teeth gone too intensely at the crook between his neck and his shoulder. 

Rin makes up for it by kissing over the reddened skin — licking and sucking at the curve of his collar bone — up the column of Haru’s throat and his Adam’s apple and it’s so many sensations at once that Haru can’t deal.

“W—wait…” he breathes out, the heat in his belly swirling angrily. But it’s lost in the commotion and Haru feels _good_ but too _good_ and he just “Wait—” is louder now, his hands coming up to rest against Rin’s bare chest but not push because Rin’s sucking at that sensitive spot again and it’s—fuck it’s—“…stop…” it’s too much — it’s too much it’s too much it’s too— “STOP.”

His voice rings in his ears as he shoves Rin off of him, the boy above him falling back onto his knees from it. But Haru’s too caught up in his own deal to see the emotion flash across his face — too flushed and breathing too heavily and just all around too unnerved and he has to _move._ He clambers off the bed, nearly falling on his face before catching himself — before making it down the hallway and locking himself in the bathroom and blasting the coldest water he can get into the bathtub, pulling his shirt over his head and his pants down around his ankles and it’s a shock to his system when he dunks his entire body in, head and all, but the unforgiving briskness of the water cools his skin and kills his boner like he _needs_ it to as he lays there, tucked into himself and submerged into a place where he can’t feel the heat at all. Because the heat is confusing. The heat is scary. The heat is worryingly pleasant and for right now at least he just wants it to go away. 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

When Haru dries off and settles from his panic, the movie is still playing on the laptop in his bedroom, but the screen lights up the crumpled blankets of empty space where he had left Rin. 

The storm rages on against the window and Haru wonders if he should go look for him, only relieved of the duty when he hears the floorboards creaking in the living room. Rin’s here, he’s just not _here_. 

Haru shuts off the laptop and burrows into his blankets.

Makes sense…who would stick around after getting shoved away like that?

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Rin’s presence is no more _present_ in the morning. He mills around the house while Haru tries not to notice how kept-to-himself he’s being — how he seems to be deliberately going out of his way to _stay_ out of the way. It’s like he’s lurking without trying to look like he’s lurking, and frankly it’s making Haru feel like more and more of an asshole with every fleeting glance.

The rain clears up enough to drop him off at Sousuke’s (that’s a _thing_ now), leaving Haru free to go through practice with yet another existential crisis. Coach Sasabe offers more muddled pearls of wisdom from his wife and Haru just listens and nods and sinks back underwater.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Sousuke’s in his police uniform from the waist down when he answers the door, looking especially stupid as he readjusts his belt/holster thing while wearing a high school swim-team shirt (one of his _few_ redeeming qualities, Haru thinks).

“Good timing — just got called in,” he says, stepping out of the doorway and through the living room.

Haru’s been here enough times now to know, before he even sees him, that Rin’s going to be sitting on the floor with drawing materials. But this time the papers are untouched, the pens uncapped beside where he remains standoffish.

Haru’s guilt rears its ugly head yet again. So he’s still in a mood then, is he?

“Sounds like _someone_ had an interesting night last night…” Sousuke calls from the bedroom, his tone adding salt to Haru’s wound — that is, until Haru actually _gets_ what he means.

Because wait… What the hell? How could he possibly know about that whole thing? 

Haru flusters. “…how’d you—”

“He showed me.” Sousuke’s walking back into the living room now, his dark blue uniform shirt billowing as he passes by with such nonchalance that Haru barely even notices because…

Because…

“ _What?_ ” Rin showed him? Like…he just went up and showed him exactly what happened last night? He… _kissed Sousuke—_

“Relax, it wasn’t like that,” Sousuke says so calmly that Haru can’t even wrap his mind around it.

Because— What the _hell_?

“Nanase, _relax_.” He must sense the confused irritation firing off in Haru’s very core, but his tone never raises past its casual lilt as he starts on the bottom button of his shirt. “How else was he supposed to get across how bad you fucked up?” He glances over at him — at the way Haru’s trying not to show just how _effected_ he is — and something in his calm shifts. “Although…” he says slowly, “…now I’m starting to think he might’ve been wrong after all.”

Haru can feel the heat spreading across his face. Wrong? “About what?”

And Sousuke just smirks. “You hating it so much.”

It hits him like an atom bomb and that’s _it_. That’s _enough_. Haru doesn’t have to stand here and take this when he can’t even get his own thoughts and feelings straightened out. “Shut up,” he snaps, moving toward where Rin still won’t look at him and grabbing his wrist before leading him to the door. “We’re leaving.”

Sousuke’s smirk hasn’t gone away since the moment it crept over his face. And as he buttons his last button, his uniform coming together in full as Haru wrenches open the front door, he says, “Do yourselves a favor — don’t be such an asshole the next time he makes a move.”

It reaches Haru before he can shut the door, the implications of it far too intense for right now so he just keeps moving. Just keeps walking. Just keeps his heavy gaze on the ground as he lets go of Rin and lets him fall into step beside him.

Whatever. What does Sousuke know? Nothing. He needs to mind his own business. Keep his nose out of people’s lives. Haru can’t _believe_ Rin kissed him. If it was anything like how he did it last night—

Haru’s angry pace stops on a dime, his eyes widening in realization. 

Holy shit. 

Is he… _jealous_ …?

Rin backtracks a few steps, apparently not privy to the frantic thoughts currently cycling through Haru’s head. He still doesn’t make eye-contact but Haru can’t help but glance over, uncertainty oozing in his chest — uncertainty and _warmth._

There’s no way. Haru’s not a jealous person. Haru’s not really any _type_ of person at all, if you get right down to it. But the thought of Sousuke trying to figure out what’s wrong with Rin after Haru left…and the thought of Rin going up to him and _showing_ him—

A sour feeling stirs inside Haru’s gut — a feeling even worse than the warmth — and he’s not sure if it’s a full moon or if he’s still riding high on the bullshit of what just happened, but he turns toward Rin and presses forward on impulse, their bodies flush together and his arms hanging defeatedly at his sides as he buries his face in Rin’s shoulder.

Rin tenses a little bit — doesn’t move right away — is probably as lost as Haru usually is with every new foreign half-shark gesture. But Haru can’t help but stay there, smashed into him and as close to another person as he’s ever been, his heart throbbing in his chest so hard that he’s almost positive Rin can feel it beating against his own. Then slowly…ever so slowly…two hands settle down over his shoulder blades — an imitation of Haru’s attempted affection during Rin’s first transformation — something that Haru doesn’t even realize until this is all over.

But it feels good. And the warmth is spreading but it’s a good warmth this time. And Haru sort of lifts his arms a bit and clings to where Rin’s shirt lays over the curve of his lower back, softly mumbling: “Let’s go swim.”

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

The water is calm when they reach it, lapping up onto the large stones as they opt for a more private place to swim around the front of the lighthouse. Haru folds their clothes and makes sure they’re left high up enough on the slab of rock as Rin dives in with grace behind him. He’s quick to follow into the water after readjusting the waist of the jammers he never took off after practice, the sea warm and welcoming as he treads water while securing his goggles over his eyes.

Rin’s just a dot on the horizon, no doubt taking off at an incredible speed as soon as he transformed underwater. It’s an ability that Haru can’t help but admire — a sliver of jealousy tucked away under said admiration. It would be incredible to move like that — to just cut through the water with such little effort. But he supposes that unless he plans on becoming half shark any time soon, he should be satisfied with his own skill level since he’s technically above average when it comes to normal human beings anyway.

It’s clear in the way that Haru swims now, even in the slight turbulence of the sea. He can move in ways that other people can’t — can stay under longer than the average person — has this weird sort of connection with the water that not even a single reporter could wrap their minds around so he had just stopped trying to explain it back in his competition days.  

But he’s nothing compared to Rin. _No one_ is anything compared to Rin. 

Rin is all liquid smooth turns and flourishes of his tail. Rin is slow backwards flips so effortless that Haru has to wonder if he isn’t actually half dolphin instead. Rin is fluent and graceful and one with the water like Haru will never be, even as he notices that he’s being watched, a smirk dancing across his face as he smoothly changes direction and heads toward Haru.

And you’d think that’d at least be a _little_ terrifying — being underwater and seeing at least 50% of a shark suddenly switching directions and honing in on you — but terror is the last thing Haru feels, especially when he comes up for air and Rin’s somehow already there, floating in front of him expectingly. 

“Oh,” Haru says on his breath out, the sudden closeness finally enough to catch him off guard and get that little shock to fire off. 

Rin pulls a hand out of the water, his brows furrowing in curiosity as he taps his pointer finger over one of the hard lenses of Haru’s goggles. 

It’s not until now that Haru even _realizes_ he still has them on, a second skin to him but probably perplexing to someone who’s lived their entire life without the need for them. “They’re goggles,” he explains with little inflection as he pulls them off, his hair probably doing some magical things in the process. He dunks them in the water and rubs his thumbs over the inside hollows before bringing them up to Rin’s face, Rin going cross-eyed as they’re gently held up to his eyes. “See? Goggles.”

Rin stays very still, brows still furrowed.

And…okay. Haru can see that’s enough.

“Anyway,” he mumbles, pulling them away from Rin and stretching them over his own head until they hang loosely around his neck, “I need them to see underwater. Well…pool water and salt wate—”

Suddenly Rin’s other hand is being thrust toward him, the other boy apparently finished altogether with this goggle-talk and ready to move onto whatever’s happening now. Whatever’s…whatever he’s clutching in his hand.

Haru regards the closed fist with a slow blink. Because what the hell could he possibly have when all they’ve been doing is swimming for the past hour— 

Rin presses forward, his knuckles knocking against Haru’s chest impatiently and causing Haru to hold his hand out and catch the small object that Rin drops into his palm. 

It’s a seashell — little and tulip-shaped and speckles of grey dotting down the wet black surface. It shimmers in the sun as Haru looks down at it resting in the center of his palm, his heart doing a little flip in his chest because…Rin’s…giving this to him…right?

He glances up to where Rin’s stare is almost penetrating. Like he’s waiting for Haru to say something or for a reaction or _something_. 

Haru turns the seashell over in his hand a few times before looking back up at him — airy warmth. “Thanks.”

He knows it’s a sentiment that doesn’t fully express what he’s feeling because he’s been dealing with that for his entire life, but Rin doesn’t seem to be bothered by it, a small smile creeping over him instead.  

Haru glances over his shoulder at the large rocks near the base of the lighthouse, his legs starting to get tired from treading water for so long in spite of all the subtle intricacies going on here that he’s enjoying. But he still has to fix last night, the guilt of shoving Rin away (not even for the first time) refusing to wash away. 

He lets his gaze drop into the water, Rin’s smile falling with it when he sees the sudden mood change. It’s a transformation all of Haru’s own. And it’s certainly not the first time for _that_ , either.

And when Haru speaks, it’s quiet, his voice almost swept away with the surf moving around them — “I keep pushing you…” — but he does his best — “…and confusing you probably. And it’s not helping anything, so…” he presses his fist against his own chest, something in Rin lighting up at the recognizable gesture as he quietly murmurs, “…sorry…” 

That floats between them for a moment, Haru suddenly not so sure if the constant drama between them is something he can just apologize for and be done with, and he guesses he can accept that because it _is_ mostly his own fault. But then Rin’s forehead is coming to rest against his. Acknowledgement. Acceptance. And it’s enough of a relief for Haru to let out the pent up breath through his nose, his eyes closing as he does so.  

They stay like that for the longest they ever have, Haru enjoying the mending being done but his legs still cramping up on him from the continual tread. It makes him glance over his shoulder at the lighthouse once more, the sentence on the tip of his tongue before Rin’s scooping him up in the water, an arm under his back and the other under the crook of his knees. 

“Oh,” Haru supposes, allowing himself to be handled until comfortable. “That…works, I guess.” Because being held bridal-style by a mershark has never exactly been a consideration in his mind.

Rin nods shortly, apparently zero strain put on him from carrying Haru in the water. And Haru supposes that makes sense since he just spent enough time watching him to know that he uses his tail to swim anyway, his top half free to do whatever it is half-sharks usually do. The hold around his back tightens a bit and Haru lets out another breath, letting his eyes trail over the seashell in his palm. Maybe this is a good time to just talk. Let shit out. Rin can’t understand what he’s saying half the time anyway. It’d be good to just…let some stuff off…wouldn’t it?

He turns the shell over in his hand, talking to it more than Rin, if he’s being honest. “You make me nervous…” It catches Rin’s attention but there doesn’t seem to be any sort of comprehension happening. And it’s enough of a safety net to let Haru continue. “You make me think weird things, you know? And that makes me feel weird things… And…” The shell’s sides are slippery as he rolls it in his hand, his eyes never leaving it once as he mumbles more truths than he was originally planning on. “I don’t know. I do stupid things because you make me nervous.” It’s redundant but he doesn’t care. Because Rin’s looking at him and for a second, it’s like he’s listening and understanding and that’s great because Haru doesn’t even understand half the shit he’s saying right now himself. It’s all pathetically amusing, when it comes right down to it, and he lets out a barely-there huff of a laugh, the corners of his mouth quirking upward for what feels like the first time in years as he says it. “You’re terrifying and it’s not even because you’re half-shark.” 

He closes his fingers around the small shell and then lets his hand drop into his lap before glancing up at Rin. 

But Rin’s so zeroed in on him that it’s almost like he doesn’t notice, his eyes locked in astonishment on Haru’s tiny smile — processing — before his own smile spreads across his face — wide and honest and… _accomplished_ … 

Haru takes a second, the realization slowly dawning on him. 

The arm link after watching the people sitting in front of them at the aquatic center. 

The whole thing after watching the couple kissing on screen. 

Is that what Rin’s been aiming for all along? For Haru to just fucking _smile_ and be _happy_ for once?

It’s so grossly endearing (and obvious, now that he thinks about it) that it almost makes Haru sick, heat quickly rising to his face from the cuteness of it all. Because as perpetually nervous as he is, he _is_ happy and curious about Rin and he just acts on impulse again — just grabs Rin’s neck and squeezes his eyes shut and pulls himself up to nuzzle his nose alongside Rin’s in a long drag — leans down and presses his lips against Rin’s still ones, his nerves detonating in spastic bursts and he barely breaks it off and pulls away before mumbling a flustered: “Okay now let me go,” all but toppling himself out of Rin’s hold with burning cheeks and a skyrocketing pulse.

He re-enters the water with flailing arms and little grace, his head dunking under but it doesn’t matter because nothing can make him feel more embarrassed than he already is, his face probably the color of Rin’s hair as he turns to see how Rin’s look of surprise morphs into one of wholehearted delight, a smile stretching across his face and Haru’s heart dropping in his stomach as the mershark dives forward after him.

“ _Ri_ —” but he’s already made impact, wrapping his arms around Haru and his weight pushing both of them down toward the sea floor as he nuzzles his nose against Haru’s with abandon.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

The embarrassment of Haru’s actions follows him like a shadow for the rest of the day, the ceaseless dusting of pink across his cheeks and the tingling of his lips acting as constant reminders of his impulsivity. He’s not upset that he did it, per se, it’s just that it was (if he wants to be sappy about it) technically their…well, their first kiss… Like their first _real_ one. Because what happened during the movie doesn’t count, he’s adamantly decided. And he may be dragging himself around with this never-ending blush, Rin’s attention already fixed on him when he looks over, but he _is_ kind of proud of himself for getting his shit together and “making a move”, as Sousuke would say — even if it’s only a small fraction of getting-his-shit-together in a massive clusterfuck of overall getting-his-shit-together. 

He doesn’t really have much time to brood with just the two of them, because not long after they dry off and finally get back home, Nagisa’s at the door with a beaming smile and a small metal box in the hand that isn’t waving. 

And that’s how Haru gets some time to decompress in the kitchen, mackerel sizzling nicely on his hotplate and Nagisa and Rin sitting in the living room behind him — each on opposite sides of the coffee table and Nagisa going on and on about things Rin probably doesn’t understand but is cordial enough to not be an asshole about today. 

Haru sprinkles pepper over the cooking fish in front of him, tuning into the sound of metal clasps being opened and Nagisa’s enthusiastic: “Which color do you want, Rin-chan? I’ve got a lot of dark blues that would go well with your complexion. Oh! What about this one? Rei-chan let me paint his nails with it once but then he complained because he said the sparkles were distracting.” 

There’s a long stretch of silence, one that Haru can already picture Rin’s deadpan expression in, but then there’s some shuffling and the sound of thick glass clinking together and Nagisa’s excitement picks up right where it left off.

“Ooo! Black? How _mysterious_ , Rin-chan! Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever used this one before. You’ll be the first! Exciting, right?” 

There’s no answer, as expected, but that doesn’t put a damper on Nagisa’s enthusiasm in the slightest, as also expected. 

Haru flips the mackerel over to check for consistency to the sound of more clinking glass, and for one truly Makoto-esque moment, Haru wonders if Nagisa put anything down to prevent the nail polish from getting all over his table. 

“Nagisa…” he mumbles, sticking his head out of the kitchen and preparing for the worst. The paper towel that’s laid between the two of them is reassuring, if not superfluous with the steady way Nagisa’s expertly drawing the polish brush down Rin’s middle fingernail. 

The more interesting sight however, Haru comes to realize, is the concentration with which Rin watches the brush move, his brows scrunching together in a scowl of mystification at the dark black polish that it leaves in its wake.

Witchcraft.

“You’re so much better at this than Haru-chan,” Nagisa continues without looking up. Whether he’s aware of Haru’s presence or not is undetermined. “He only let me do it once and got bored before I could even finish his other hand.”

Haru huffs quietly, returning to his mackerel and finishing it off with one more hint of seasoning before plating it. He’s made enough for everyone — a major cut into his normal stash, regrettably — but he _is_ trying to be a more accommodating friend, and this seems like the kind of thing an accommodating friend would do, right?

When he walks back into the living room, Rin’s scowl of mystification has morphed into something visibly proud, his eyes calmly shut and chin tipped just a touch above its usual position as Nagisa leans over the table to finish up — the very poster-boy for a princess being pampered.

And… Wow. Haru should’ve seen this coming a mile away.

“What’dya think, Haru-chan?” Nagisa exclaims with a grin as he holds up one of Rin’s hands, the inky black polish a stark contrast to the pastel-purple of his own. “Mysterious, right?”

Haru blinks, “It’s _something,_ ” and then sets the plate down on the only spot of his table that isn’t being overrun by manicure supplies.

Nagisa twists the brush back onto the bottle of polish before beaming up at him, “Your turn!” — operating at full speed at all times.

Haru frowns. “No.”

“But you said you would last time!”

“The chlorine chips it.”

“I have a top coat to prevent that now!” 

“I’ll pass.”

“Awww Haru-chaaaan…”

The front door buzzes — the perfect distraction from the sad puppy-dog eyes Nagisa’s currently got fixed on him.

Haru steps over to the door, pulling it open with a deadpan “Makoto,” as the boy waves sheepishly at him. Because what is this, Grand Central Station?

“Sorry to intrude, I just stopped by because I was feeling a bit—oh? Nagisa’s here?”

“Mako-Mako-chaaaaan!”

Haru sidesteps out of the way with a tired blink, the unexpected excitement of everything that’s happening today suddenly weighing down on him.

“Mako-chan, you’re next! What color do you want?” Nagisa beams from the living room as Haru shuts the front door.

Makoto’s answer is as wishy-washy as expected. “W-well...sorry Nagisa, I don’t think they’d let me have painted nails at the hospital.”

“Whaaa? What kind of rule is _that_?”

“I’m not sure, exactly. Actually, I came here to talk to Haru about something.”

Haru perks up at the mention of his name, the tone with which Makoto says it not doing too much to calm the anxiety that he’s already got when it comes to being cornered into social interaction.

“If that’s okay…that is…” 

One glance up toward Makoto reveals that Haru’s reservations haven’t gone unnoticed, the smile on his friend’s face still finding time to be reassuring even as his eyes betray him.

Haru waits a second — looks over to where Nagisa is actively trying to keep Rin from touching his wet nail polish — “Sure…” — and then leads them out the glass door to the backyard.

Makoto closes it behind him, his broad shoulders covering most of Haru’s view inside, but not enough that he can’t see how Rin’s attention is suddenly locked in their direction. 

What is this? What’s so important that Makoto has to talk to him? Why is he looking at him like that?

Suddenly something ices over in Haru’s veins. What if— It can’t be. He can’t know about Rin. Right? 

“Sorry for bothering you,” Makoto says quietly, but Haru’s not 100% listening because—

How could this have happened? Did he see Rin’s gills that one time it started raining and they had to run home? Did he come down to the lighthouse to visit him and see Rin completely transformed? 

“I—…well, I…”

Haru’s patience is thinning. If this is happening it needs to just happen. “What?”

Makoto must pick up on the sudden urgency, because he clears his throat a bit, his voice a step higher than normal as he says: “It’s just… Well I accidentally switched two patients’ blood transfusion bags today.”

… Haru blinks. Waits. Feeling slowly returns to his fingers. “… _what_?”

It’s a wonder if Makoto can’t see his pent up worry expelling with every second. “Yeah I…I was carrying two of them and I almost gave someone the wrong blood type.”

Haru swallows. Feels beyond stupid for getting so keyed up about something before even hearing the truth. What the hell is Rin doing to him?

Makoto clears his throat again, his gaze to the ground. “I know it’s not your problem or anything. Sorry if I—”

“Did anyone die?”

“Huh?” He’s looking back up at him now, apparently surprised that there’s a follow-up question at all. “Um… No. The woman I’m shadowing caught it before anything bad happened.”

Haru closes his eyes, several types of relief spreading over him all at once. “Then it’s fine,” he says. “You’re learning, right? That’s what shadowing is for.” 

Something in Makoto visibly calms — a feeling that Haru can relate to more than he’d like to admit, even as he glances back into the living room to see that Rin’s attention on them hasn’t faltered even a little bit. And now he’s standing, which can’t be good.

“You’re right,” Makoto smiles, and this time it’s not for anyone else’s benefit. “It’s better to make mistakes now instead of in the future. Thanks, Haru.”

Haru sees the hug coming before Makoto probably even knows he’s going to do it himself, because that’s the typical Makoto Formula ©. So when it happens, Haru doesn’t really mind — has been on the receiving end of the Makoto Formula © enough to embrace it with much more acceptance than if he were to receive a hug from someone else. It’s second nature to him now.

Glancing over his shoulder and seeing that Rin has started up a predatory pace back and forth, his eyes boring holes into the scene playing out in the backyard, is not.

Haru tenses, Makoto apparently noticing it and letting go without hesitation. “Ah, sorry. I know you’re not really a hug person.”

Nagisa has gotten to his feet now, his mouth curving down into a frown as he no doubt tries to figure out just what the hell Rin’s doing.

“S’fine,” Haru mumbles distractedly, doing his best to tell Rin to calm down with his eyes. 

It’s not working.

“Anyway, thanks for listening. I feel much better now.”

“Sure.”

And then Makoto’s opening the glass door. And they’re stepping back into the house. And Rin’s on Haru so fast that it’s not a question of whether or not he’s part predator.

“Wh—Rin, wait—” Haru sputters as he’s pulled down the hallway by the back of the shirt, Nagisa frantically calling out after them:

“Wait! I don’t know if you’re dry yet!”

Haru’s back hits against his bedroom wall with a thud, his eyes squeezing shut from the sudden impact. (You’d think he’d be used to this setup enough to brace himself by now. And yet.)

“Rin,” he huffs, but really he can’t be mad because… “ _Rin_.” Black nails press against his chest, a spitting image of the last time he had become territorial over Haru when Makoto was around, and… “Rin. It’s fine.” He reaches up to hold onto where his wrist has him pinned. “You’re jealous. I get it.”

_Wow_ , does he get it. Does he fucking ever.

“It’s fine,” he repeats, calmer this time. “We like Makoto, remember?”

He’s not sure how much is reaching him — sticking in his brain — but with the way the blush evens out high over his cheekbones, he has to believe at least a _little_ of it is.

Rin presses forward. Slots their bodies right up against each other until there’s no more room between them. Rests his forehead against him and slowly rubs his nose alongside Haru’s. 

There’s literally nowhere for Haru to go. He is, for now at least, entirely Rin’s. And there’s something about that idea that lights a fire deep in Haru’s core.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

It’s not lost on Haru how still very effected he is by the whole thing with Rin and Sousuke. He knows he shouldn’t be like this — shouldn’t have that sour curl of negativity deep in his gut when he thinks about it — but knowing he shouldn’t be like this and actually not being like this are two vastly different things.

It stems, he realizes one night as he’s falling asleep to the sounds of floorboards creaking under Rin’s footfalls, from the fact that he’s got a feeling Rin isn’t completely aware of his actions — still honest to god just doesn’t realize what two people kissing can mean. Because if he knew, he wouldn’t have done it so freely with Sousuke, right? Haru thinks so, with quiet grudge-filled hope, at least. 

So that’s what prompts Haru to get Rin to just _sit down and stop roaming everywhere_ , crossing his legs as he positions himself right in front of the intrigued half-shark.

“I’m gonna explain something to you,” he says, feigning stern confidence where he has none. “Okay?”

Rin shifts but doesn’t say anything, just lets his gaze trail down Haru before meeting his eyes again.

Haru resentfully settles for that as an answer. “Okay. So look. _Rin_ , look. For humans, kissing is the same as that…nose…nuzzle…thing…” His fake confidence peters out at that. Because what the hell do you even call that? It sounds especially stupid now that he’s said it out loud. And he guesses he’s not 100% sure about his comparison, but he’s pretty damn certain that the nuzzle thing is an affectionate gesture that’s comparable to a kiss. Right?

Rin seems to be even more lost.

Haru closes his eyes for a second, calling upon whichever deities are out there to grant him patience and strength, before mumbling: “Fine, here. _This_ ,” he braces himself before leaning forward and leaving the chastest kiss ever against Rin’s lips, and then pulls away and says: “…is the same as _this._ ” He leans forward again, rubbing the side of his nose against Rin’s very very quickly, and then pulls back. He has no idea if he’s blushing or not but he’s just going to assume he is at this point. “Got it?”

Rin stares at him, an eyebrow raising ever so slowly.

No. He doesn’t.

God damn it.

Haru huffs. “Fine. One more time.” He scoots even closer, their knees knocking together before he continues. “Kissing,” he steadies his hands on Rin’s shoulders and kisses him again, his eyes closing without permission for a second, “is the same as _this_.” He nuzzles against Rin once again, heart plucking away lightly in his chest. “Understand?”

When he leans back, Rin’s still sporting that same look of confusion, and Haru wants to jump off the highest cliff he can find.

“Seriously?” he deadpans, and he’s about to scoot even closer and give it one last attempt when Rin breaks — a tiny quirk of his lips that slowly spreads into a knowing smirk.

And that’s… 

He…

“You bastard,” Haru frowns, zero doubt about how red his face is now that he’s struggling to back away. Rin had understood it after the very first explanation. Of course he did. 

Rin propels himself forward, knocking Haru back onto the floor with a groan and crawling up his body until they’re face to face.

Haru wants to be mad but it’s hard when he’s got Rin so close like this. Teasing. Smirking. What is it about Haru that makes people love to see him squirm? “You’re almost as bad as Sousuke,” he grumbles offhandedly, and as soon as he says it, as soon as the name passes over his lips, something in Rin’s smugness fizzles out.

It’s a slow process, his smirk falling into something like grave realization as he sits up in silence, his gaze dropped to the floor but busy with whatever’s going on in his head. 

He’s realizing it. He’s finally making the connection.

“You’re thinking about Sousuke?” Haru asks quietly, so as not to interrupt too harshly.

Rin’s gaze focusses back at him, something sour and almost like regret swimming in all that dark red. 

So he really _didn’t_ know what it meant when he did it. Both with Sousuke and with Haru the night before.

“It’s okay,” Haru murmurs, not realizing just how badly he needed the affirmation until it washes over him. Because Rin might’ve unknowingly been a tiny bit generous with his kiss distribution, but he’s only ever done the nuzzle thing with Haru — the one thing that Rin actually has no doubt about its affectionate meaning.

Rin shifts above him and it lifts Haru out of his own deep thoughts, his eyes landing on where Rin’s curled his fingers into a fist and is holding it against his own chest.

Sorry.

Haru props himself up on his elbows, looks up at him through dark bangs, “It’s fine,” pulls Rin towards him by the shoulder and presses their foreheads together calmly. “You didn’t know.”

It’s brief but heartfelt. Fleeting but grounding. 

And when they’re done, Haru gently pushes Rin off of him and says, “Put a shirt on, we’re going out,” before disappearing in his room.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

They go out not because Haru wants to, but because a carnival is in town and Nagisa won’t let anyone live without harassing them into going. Haru has his scruples about the gigantic ferris wheel in the middle of all the food stands. Because how could something so huge possibly be disassembled and then reassembled in a different village and still be stable enough to carry people that high up into the air? _Children_ , no less.

Rei shares his concern. “It’s a wonder there haven’t been any lawsuits filed. Technically speaking, the structural integrity of th—”

“C’mon, Rei-chan! We’re next!” Nagisa doesn’t have such scruples.

He’s the only one — both Makoto and Sousuke also looking up at the ferris wheel with their own respective looks of uncertainty. But everyone gets nagged into waiting in line, and Haru’s master plan of ditching after having Rei and Nagisa get on first is shot to hell, Nagisa practically pushing them into a four-person car before pulling Rei into the next empty one.

“Tricked…” Haru mumbles dispassionately, the cabin swinging ever so slightly as it climbs and Rin does his best to figure out balancing his weight distribution on the bench next to him.

Sousuke leans his head back against the firm wire mesh that acts as the cabin’s windows, sighing as he crosses his arms over his chest. “What a shitty way to die…”

Haru fixes him with a tired glare. “Where’s your gun? I could shoot you instead.”

He’s only half joking, causing Makoto to laugh nervously next to Sousuke, “Now now…” and the only person in here who can’t see right through his motherly instincts and into his sheer fear of the situation is probably Rin. 

Makoto’s not that great with heights, you see.

Rin, on the other hand (once he’s gotten his whole balance-issue figured out), has got a firm grip on the side of Haru’s shirt, and it’s not because he’s afraid of heights. Makoto’s too busy nervously peering over the side of the cabin to notice the territorial look being sent his way — not angry, per se, just stern and foreboding. Sousuke doesn’t miss it though, brows subtly coming together as he glances between Rin and Makoto.

The scene plays out for a few more silent moments until the cabin jerks, Makoto’s hands flying out to frantically ground himself on Sousuke and the metal mesh. Sousuke bypasses the sudden death-grip on his thigh to calmly say: “Looks like Nagisa got his hands on someone…” nodding at the inky black of Rin’s fingernails.

Haru mutters some noncommittal noise, not too uninterested to miss how Rin looks up at Sousuke before glancing away, the predatory sternness dropping from his expression and evening out into something almost self conscious. And Haru's willing to bet it has nothing to do with the nail polish comment.

Sousuke notices. Frowns slightly.

Interesting.

“How much longer do you think we’ll be on here?” Makoto’s voice wavers a bit when he asks it, realizing where his hands are and drawing them back into himself again.

Haru props his elbow on the window and rests his cheek against his hand as he looks out. “Least another half hour,” he mumbles with zero inflection.

It’s enough to send Makoto spiraling into a panic. “W- _what_?”

“It was a joke.” Tired blink. “I have no idea.”

Turns out it’s more like another five minutes — the longest damn ferris wheel ride that Haru’s ever been forced to participate in — and it’s filled to the brim with Makoto trying to act normal and Sousuke giving up with Rin in favor of at least _attempting_ to calm the boy next to him instead.

When they touch down on solid ground again, Haru starts making plans to ditch the carnival entirely. (Because when he was up at the very top against his will, he saw the sea sparkling in the sunset, and it was definitely calling his name.) 

Makoto has calmed enough now to tune into Haru’s brain-noise, probably completely aware of his plan to bail once they reach the line for the next ride, so when Haru and Rin disappear without a word, it’s not exactly a surprise.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Hibiki shrieks a friendly greeting to Haru as the two of them venture up to the lighthouse, the sea cast in fiery oranges and yellows close by. Haru heads for the stairs, deciding that he should act responsibly at least _one_ time today as he plans out the fastest way to sweep up inside his head. Rin tags along behind him, staring longingly at the water as they get close but not close enough.

“You can go,” Haru offers quietly, walking up the steps. He slips the key into the lock, his dolphin keychain banging up against the door as he expects the splash that never comes.

On the contrary, when he turns, Rin is standing at the foot of the stairs, fists balled up and seeming visibly torn as he shifts his attention between the shoreline and where Haru stands.

Haru lets the hand holding his keys fall, the other waiting on the door handle as he watches. “…you can _go,_ ” he repeats.

But Rin just stands there. Undeniably at odds.

And Haru doesn’t know what’s going on in his head.

So turns, deciding to press on and get his job done while Rin drops off into the sea. It is his home, after all. It’s not like there’s really much of a—

The sudden commotion of the door being propped open at the last minute has Haru turning in his spot, his brow furrowing when he sees Rin slip through and then let it close behind him.

Oh.

Hibiki squawks up on the balcony and Rin scans the room with cautious interest, eyes landing on anything and everything as Haru slowly grabs the broom next to him and starts sweeping up. It’s probably not as monumental as it seems, Rin choosing to come in here with him instead of the water. There are more important things. Like seeing the note Miss A left him about a new schedule of ships coming in soon. Or the fact that something must’ve flown into the glass that surrounds the beacon because there’s an alarming smudge that Haru has to scrub away. Or how the door from the stairs squeaks open and suddenly Rin’s very close, eyes sparkling and attention set as he thrusts something into Haru’s personal space. 

That something turns out to be Haru’s guitar. And Rin’s got this intense grip around the neck as he holds it out towards him.

Haru peers down at it, and then back up. “…what?”

Rin thrusts it toward him again, staring at him expectedly. 

Okay, Haru accepts as he tosses the cleaning rag onto the floor and rubs his hands on his pants before taking the guitar from him. This is weird, right? Like…how would Rin know about the function of a guitar? How many guitars has this guy been around in his short time on land?

Haru sits, those questions and many more swirling in his head as he crosses his legs and brings the guitar over his lap. Rin sits as well, that expectant spark still going strong. And there’s something about his presence that makes Haru uneasy. Because he’s never had an _audience_ before (except for Makoto but Makoto doesn’t count) — he’d just dick around and teach himself how to play in the solitude of his own space. But now Rin’s here. Waiting.

The breeze washes up and over them and Haru strums his fingers across the strings of the guitar a few times, nothing solid but hopefully enough to fulfill whatever expectation is going on in that fishy brain of Rin’s. 

But fulfilled is the last thing that would describe Rin right now, waiting not too patiently and a frown starting to form across his lips. 

Haru sidesteps around it with another attempt, an impromptu plucking of strings that sounds not too shabby for something he’s making up off the top of his—

Rin presses forward, the notes cutting out with an clipped twang as he impatiently presses both hands against the one Haru’s strumming with. And when Haru glances up at him, he can _feel_ the anticipation in Rin’s stare. The tension. The redirection and heavy desire that makes Haru’s mouth go dry.

Those aren’t the songs what Rin wants. 

But…

Rin slowly draws back, his hands falling into his lap and his stare carving deep. 

The sea breeze casts his bangs into a soft tousle and Haru swallows the lump in his throat. When he moves, it's as if it's by some unseen force, his fingers stretching into the familiar place on the guitar’s neck, and then slowly, their stare never caving, he begins to play his song.

The melody starts off soft — plucked and airy and cautious — and when it floats between them and reaches the boy before him, there’s no longer any question of whether or not this is what he wanted.

Rin’s eyes drift shut, his posture easing into something dreamlike and cool as a smile slowly drifts into view.

It’s a smile of acknowledgment. _Recognition_. And there’s something very strange about it that makes Haru feel very _off_.

Because how could this be? How could Rin recognize his song? The only time Haru’s played it is up here on the balcony while—… 

While waiting for the ships to come in.

The melody drags as Haru stares at Rin, washed in the reds of the setting sun as the realization dawns on him. 

“You’re…what was watching me?”

Rin’s eyes open and smoothly fix on him, his posture no less at ease from Haru’s connection.

It seems like ages ago — the feeling of being watched as he worked here day in and day out. Haru’s fingers slow to a stop, the melody dying out as he does so. Of course it was Rin. Of fucking course it was. Looking back at everything now, how could that even be a question in his mind?

It wasn’t actually, Haru has to admit. If he’s being honest, the sudden excitement and responsibility of taking care of Rin had completely washed the thought from his mind, a whole host of other worries quickly taking its place by storm. But now, sitting here and watching Rin — watching Rin watch _him_ — it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“You lurker…” Haru mumbles, wondering just how long Rin had known about him before he had known about Rin.

The boy in question leans forward and nudges at Haru’s hand — a request to keep playing, no doubt. 

And as the sun sets lower and lower into the ocean, Haru plays on, his song drifting along with the current.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Haru has another dirty dream that night. 

About Rin.

About eyes watching him from the shoreline. 

About teeth so sharp that they draw blood but it’s good it’s so good it’s the best because it’s hot and he wants it and it means he’s Rin’s.

Means he’s secure.

Means he’s waking up in a pool of sweat and with Rin’s name on his lips.

Haru lies there and closes his eyes and listens for footfalls but it’s silent. 

He walks out into the living room but it’s silent.

He covers the whole house and the backyard but it’s silent.

Rin’s not there.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Haru doesn’t remember falling asleep on the living room floor, but when his eyes flutter open to nearby movement and the distinct smell of the sea, they close again before landing on the seashell left by his hand, its pearly white sides shining in the moonlight.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Makoto cooks dinner a couple nights later, inviting the two of them over with a jaunty phone call that Haru wouldn’t have even heard if it wasn’t for Rin hearing the ringtone in the bedroom and hand delivering the phone to him. (Some sort of super developed shark hearing or something.)

Haru figures he’s sort of obligated to go over there, what with Makoto foreseeing his hesitancy and already making the meal beforehand and all that, but one look at Rin paints the incredibly unmistakable picture that he’s not in the mood for socializing today. Which is fine, Haru supposes, because he’s not in the mood for socializing either, but he’ll take one for the team.

The meal goes by smoothly, Makoto actually getting him to eat something that isn’t mackerel-based — (that’s apparently some big personal goal for him or something, because every time he manages to do it, he gets this Big Goofy Makoto Grin © on his face). Haru eats it without complaining, comforted by the fact that there’s still mackerel back at the house with Rin, who has (surprisingly enough) started acting normally around Sousuke again, and is probably currently knee-deep in the stack of books that Sousuke let him pick out and borrow the last time he watched him. 

Haru can already envision the mess he’s about to come home to — books scattered all over the place — possible ripped pages — the unfortunate likelihood that Haru will have to do something for Sousuke to make up for the damage.

He lets out a sigh through his nose as he twists his keys in the front door, opening it with the weary acceptance of someone who knows they’re about to walk into trouble. 

The peaceful welcoming of an empty living room does nothing but heighten that sense. But Haru keeps at it, slipping his shoes off and sliding the tupperware of leftovers that Makoto insisted he bring home into the refrigerator.

“Rin?” he calls out, face illuminated by the cool white light of the fridge. 

The only answer is the clinking of bottles as he closes the door.

Suspicious.

Haru makes his way through the living room and down the hallway. “Rin?” 

No answer.

What is that mershark up to?

The sudden shifting movement in the bedroom at the end of the hallway catches in the corner of his eye, Haru pressing forward and stepping into the room and—

His eyes finally land on Rin. How his shoulders are slumped forward a bit, his bangs falling over his eyes. How not even the setting sun can mask how flushed he is — face red and lips parted and his uncertainty unmistakable. How he’s just now finally noticing the extra presence, that look of uncertainty transferring up to where Haru now stands and puts all the pieces together. 

Rin’s appearance. 

The spread of seemingly normal-looking books laid out before him. 

The obviously not so normal-looking book opened to a random page, the scenes drawn out there scandalous enough to make even Haru blush.

The dawning realization that Rin’s shifting uncomfortably in his spot on the floor, flushed and confused and with an obvious bulge pressing against his shorts.

Slowly…Rin looks away…and then extends his arm out at Haru palm-up.

Help.

Haru stares, warmth spreading like honey inside of him regardless of all the questions working their way through his head right now. Like how did Rin manage to leave Sousuke’s place with _porn_? How long has Rin been sitting like this? Is he seriously asking him what Haru thinks he’s asking him right now?

Rin lets out a disgruntled huff, his face turned almost completely away but his gesture of need staying true.

Haru swallows. Looks around the room like there’s something there that will pop out and help him through this — make it easier to press forward and sit down and not feel like his skin is on fire from the anticipation of it all. 

“You need help?” he says stupidly, voice gravely in a way that surprises him.

Rin doesn’t turn his head, but his shoulders seem to tense from the closeness as Haru hesitantly adjusts himself until his legs are draped over his thighs. They make a circle together, close enough to realize that this isn’t normal — that the way Haru swallows again and reaches a shaky hand out is even less.

Haru pulls Rin’s hand between them by the wrist, his actions one step ahead of his thoughts as he slowly lowers Rin’s hand down on top of the bulge in his shorts, his own hand coming down to rest over it. Rin’s breath hitches in his throat, his lips parting as Haru presses down until they’re kneading against him through the thin material — Haru leading but letting Rin do the work — the actual _touching_. 

He has to admit that he’s not exactly a stranger to the need for release — especially after Rin’s arrival and everything. But how confusing must it be for someone who’s still learning the intricacies of a lower half they aren’t familiar with? God, does Rin even realize that this is a normal thing for dicks to do?

A sharp intake of breath pulls Haru from his thoughts, their pace faster now but clearly not enough to get where Rin needs to be. Haru ignores the pounding of his pulse in his eardrums, his own face burning. They need to hurry this up for both their sakes.

Getting Rin to shift enough to slide his shorts down over his hips isn’t the problem. The fact that Haru’s seen him naked a bunch of times before isn’t the problem either. The problem is, Haru’s never seen him naked and _hard_. This isn’t just-washed-up-onto-shore naked. Or finally-coming-back-down-from-a-transformation naked. This is Rin _naked,_ panting and blushed and looking like the Rin he’s dreamed about but worse because he’s real now. This is Rin incredibly aroused and inches away from Haru. And trust him, there’s a very intense, distinct difference.

Rin's hips buck from the lack of attention, and it takes everything in Haru’s willpower to not break down right then and there, moving on autopilot instead and wrapping Rin’s hand around his dick, still using his own hand to guide him through the process.

The first real stroke is intense, Rin’s back straightening and then his head falling forward and finally Haru can see his face — beautifully pink — eyes screwed shut and all inhibition gone as his mouth drops open from the sensation. It’s so much. It’s so so much and as Haru guides him through the strokes, he can’t help but slip a hand underneath the waistband of his own pants and do the same for himself.

The air in his room is thick, Rin’s breaths so hot as they ghost against his face that Haru isn’t sure if he’s sweating because it’s warm or because of the pleasure working its way through his body as he touches himself — touches himself to _Rin_ touching himself — and there’s only a fleeting moment where he wonders how strange they look sitting here, practically in each other’s laps and breathing in each other’s breathy whimpers.

Rin bucks his hips again, eyebrows furrowing as he nearly collapses forward and grabs at Haru’s shoulders with both hands to keep himself vertical — an anchor against the waves of pleasure as Haru realizes with a plunging heart that he doesn’t have a safety net anymore, both hands working at an increasingly desperate pace and Rin’s— he’s actually getting Rin off.

The heat pools in his gut just from the thought of it — that it’s only _him_ doing it now without Rin’s hand in between — and if he had the strength to hold back he would, but he doesn’t. Fuck, he doesn’t. The heat is spreading thick and heavy and Rin’s grip on his shoulders is beautifully tight and Rin collapses forward even more, their foreheads slick with sweat and coming to rest against each other regardless. It’s so much. It’s so so so much and Haru can feel himself riding the line — _that_ close to getting that ball of warmth to unfurl as he works his hand against Rin and himself and—

Rin’s entire body tenses, his grip painful as his mouth drops open wide and his heavy breaths hitch into one drawn out gasp and then a needy strangled moan. 

A _moan_. 

A _voice_.

Haru comes from the sound of it, his eyes desperate to stay open and watch but giving into the white-hot pleasure at the end, the very attraction and resonance of Rin’s voice pulling him through it until he thinks he’s going to pass out. 

Rin’s head falls to Haru’s shoulder, his forehead sticking sweatily as his breaths even out into something heavy but satisfied.

Haru doesn’t even care. Doesn’t even care about the mess on both of his hands. Doesn’t even care that he’s having a little trouble breathing himself. Because right now, there are so many things he’s still trying to wrap his mind around.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


	8. Chapter 8

 

No amount of coaxing — brief nor dedicated — will get Rin to use his voice again. Haru doesn’t know _how_ long he stays up trying with nothing to show for it in the end. Maybe it was just a fluke. Maybe Rin doesn’t use his voice for anything except noises he can’t control. But Haru tries to coax it out of him again regardless — something desperately deep inside of him craving the sound even if it’s only once more.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

He drops Rin off at Sousuke’s with an incredible attitude, the dirty magazine that had started last night’s events rolled up tightly in his hand. He doesn’t even care that he just traipsed through a good part of the village with porn in his tempered grip. What matters is that when Sousuke opens his front door, Haru’s at the ready.

“I know it was you,” his words are clipped as Rin shimmies around both of them and bounds past the door into the living room. “You did it on purpose.” 

Sousuke blinks unaffectedly. “Did what on—”

His answer comes in the form of Haru smacking the magazine against the larger man’s chest, the glossy paper unrolling at the edges as he keeps it there firmly — that is, until something in Sousuke registers and he takes it from him with the smallest sliver of a smirk. 

That bastard.

“Mind your own business from now on,” Haru frowns, not sure if he’s more angry or embarrassed that Sousuke’s little plan had actually worked. “You made Rin get all riled up.”

Sousuke rolls the magazine back up and sticks the end of it into his back pocket, no doubt reveling in a job well done. And when he says it — cool but knowing: “Nothing you couldn’t handle though, right?” — Haru can’t fight the heat that rises to his face.

Fu—

Forget this. 

He doesn’t have to stand here and— And—…

“Rin,” he calls chastely into the house without moving an inch, and when Rin’s head pops up over Sousuke’s shoulder, the half-shark already occupied with some sort of book left out for him in the living room, he says, “I’ll be back, okay?”

Rin nods. Affirmative.

And then Haru’s gone.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

He pushes himself too hard at practice. There’s really no reason he needs to keep at it for as long and as hard as he does. Even Coach Sasabe tells him to ease up after a while, not too busy to forget to offer a few more pearls of wisdom from his wife about overworking as he does so. But Haru can’t help it. Can’t shake the realization that he’s not so much irritated with Sousuke as he is surprised with his actions last night. How easy it was to keep going once the initial anxiety of the whole thing dulled down. How unmistakably _satisfying_ getting off like that was compared to the handful of other messy solo attempts Haru’s been forced to be content with. How very very _badly_ Haru maybe wants to keep the ball rolling, his chest warm and arousal spreading at even the tiniest thought of last night.

He pushes and pushes and comes in for his kickoff into the last lap with a harsh twist of his body. Heated pain shoots through the muscles in his back. His form crumples for a moment before returning to what he hopes looks like normal. The last thing he needs right now is a pulled back muscle.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

“Damn it…”

It’s official. He definitely pulled something. He can tell by the achey pain as he moves around the lighthouse, bending down to pick up the stray beer bottles that are left over from another teenager-break-in. The bottles clink together in his arms as he steps outside to throw them away, pausing to apply pressure to the ache in his lower back before bending backward in an attempt to stretch it out.

He winces. No good. 

Rin’s still up on the balcony when he climbs the stairs to him, the heavy door creaking on its hinges as he joins him for the sunset.

“You don’t wanna swim?”

Rin glances up at him from where he’s sitting, his back leaned against the metal wall. It’s the second time he’s had the option to either dip off into the sea or come up into the lighthouse with Haru, and it’s the second time that his visible deliberation had ended in Haru’s favor. 

But…is it _really_ in Haru’s favor? Even if being chosen is somewhat personally satisfying, there’s no seeing past the look in Rin’s eyes — the far-off longing that hides behind everything else as he stares off into the sea. Haru wonders why he doesn’t just choose to swim instead. But then again, he’s never really understood Rin as much as he likes to think he does. 

“Can you say something…?”

Rin’s gaze stays true, only flickering away for a second at the sound of wings beating against the breeze as Hibiki coasts in and then lands on the railing next to them. 

Haru sighs. He’s never going to hear his voice again, is he?

Hibiki shrieks, an affirmation that’s as unneeded as it is obnoxious. 

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Haru huffs, sending a pointed look the bird’s way. 

Another squawk — this one shriller than usual and enough to pull another wince from not only Haru, but also Rin.

“Quiet, Hibi—”

_sQUAWK_

Rin’s moving before Haru can process it — nothing but a flash and a quiet growl and then Hibiki’s shrieking at the top of its lungs, its wings flapping violently against the sudden hold Rin has around its belly.

Haru panics — “ST—RIN, NO.” — because he just snatched that bird off the railing like it was no big deal and — “RIN. LET GO.” — he thinks quick — panics first but then reaches out and flicks Rin’s nose with a — “NO.”

Rin’s hold on the bird caves, Hibiki awkwardly flapping up and out of view but Haru’s mostly concerned with the way Rin’s bringing a hand to his nose, moving it experimentally like he doesn’t understand what just happened.

“I—…” Haru’s coming down off his panic. “S—I’m sorry. That didn’t hurt…did it?”

Rin wiggles his nose once more before answering, said answer revealing itself as him reaching out and pulling Haru’s hand toward his face, Haru only making the connection after a few moments of awkward nudging.

He nods in understanding, taking his pointer and middle fingers and rubbing them down the bridge of Rin’s nose until the tension seems to even out for both of them. Rin lets out a calmed huff, his eyes closing, before settling back into his position on the floor and bringing Haru down with him. 

The way Haru lands — snug and straddling Rin’s lap — is only awkward for a heartbeat, because then Rin’s pulling his hand again and they’re right back to it, the mershark settling peacefully to the feeling of Haru’s soothing touch.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Rin disappears again that night. No footfalls in the living room. No shadows moving down the hallway. Haru braves the brisk night air and walks the perimeter of the house, bare toes in cool grass. 

Rin isn’t there. 

He wakes up to another sea shell next to his face, smooth and gray this time. And footfalls. And shadows. And the smell of the sea.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

“Come on, Haru…”

“No.”

“But you hurt.” 

“No, Makoto.”

“Just for a little bit.”

“I told you I don’t need it.”

“You’re walking around like you’re eighty years old. A rubdown is the minimum you need right now.”

Haru directs his glare straight at where Makoto’s sitting — all smiley and friendly and trying to be helpful. It’s not that a back rub from someone who knows what they’re doing sounds _terrible_ , it’s just that Haru’s not one to ask for help and has always felt ridiculous with how Makoto fusses over him so much.

“Hm? Just a few minutes. What do you say?”

Haru rolls his eyes, a long-suffering sigh escaping him as he damn near collapses onto the living room floor like doing so is the bane of his existence.

He can’t see Makoto, but he knows him well enough to know that he’s smiling victoriously right now as he scoots over towards him. Haru’s just glad Rin somehow decided that now is the best time for his weekly three-hour dose of sleep…he really doesn’t need a scene between the two of them again when he already feels shitty.

“What’re you doing for practice?” Makoto asks, hands working against the tension in the muscles of Haru’s back.

“Whatdoyoumean.” It all sort of slumps together with the way Haru’s face is smashed gracelessly against the floor.

But Makoto’s a great Haru-Translator. “Have you told your coach?” The long stretch of silence is also translated, his tone slipping into something slightly exasperated. “Haru…how are you supposed to get better if you keep pushing yourself?”

“Hot tub.”

“What?”

“Hot tub.” 

Pause. “…there’s a hot tub at the swimming facility?”

“Mm.”

“Okay well, heat alone isn’t enough. You have to rest.”

“Okay.”

“ _Haru_ …” Damn it, Softly-Scolding-Mother-Makoto is coming out. “I mean it. You’re not going to get better if you keep overworking.” 

Haru resists the urge to roll his eyes again, deciding instead to close them and enjoy the surprisingly relieving way that his muscles are being soothed. Makoto’s right, after all — no matter how much trouble Haru might be giving him now. He needs to tell Coach about his back instead of just pretending like everything’s normal. But that would involve confrontation. And conversation. And effort.

“He can help you, you know,” Makoto’s almost sing-songy now.

Haru grumbles. “Get out of my head.”

“I’m just saying. I’m sure he’s got some techniques that you could really benefit from.” Makoto shifts his angle, the heel of his hand kneading low in Haru’s back. “Just try please.”

Haru sighs. “Fi— _ah_!”

“Whoops, sorry.”

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

As expected, Coach Sasabe is quick to offer a half-assed inspirational quote from his wife when Haru plucks up the motivation to tell him about his back. As _Makoto_ expected, he also has some tips from his own swimming days and from other people he’s coached. Haru soaks in the hot tub tucked in the corner of the large pool room, positioning himself so the jets hit against the tight muscles in his back. When that gets to be too much he’ll stretch, arms coming out of the water and up over his head as he leans to the side and then back, practically hidden from the rest of the people in the room just like he likes it.

It’s okay because it relieves the pain for the time being.

It’s not okay because he still wants to swim.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

  

Some people have a Rain-Is-Coming radar.

Some have a This-Person-Is-Bad-News radar.

Nagisa? Nagisa has a Chipped-Nail-Polish radar.

“I know! We can just take this off and you can pick a new color! You’ve had black for forever now anyway — it’d be nice to mix it up, right Rin-chan?”

The box of six thousand nail polishes is opened on Haru’s living room table and Nagisa’s already working the remover against Rin’s thumbnail as Rei just sighs, slumped up against the wall next to Haru as they both watch on from afar. 

“It’s really a strange phenomenon. He just looks up from what he’s doing like he’s seen some sort of vision.” Rei crosses his arms, eyes closing. “Honestly it worries me a bit sometimes.”

Haru focuses on the patient way Rin sits there, an arm extended over the table so Nagisa can rub the soaked cotton ball over his nails as he chatters away. There’s a beat of silence. And then: “There’re worse things.”

This must amuse Rei, because he lets out a tired huff of a laugh, returning his attention to the two as well with a smile. “I suppose you’re right.”

Rin picks blue this time, launching the boy in front of him into an excited frenzy. Only once does Rin glance over to Haru, his brows furrowed in what can only be described as exhaustion from close proximity with Nagisa.

Haru nods to him. He knows that feeling.

“How is he progressing, by the way?”

Haru turns his attention next to him, Rei doing the same when he realizes he’s being looked at. “What?”

Rei adjusts his glasses, voice lowering a bit but still remaining confident. “I don’t mean to intrude. I was simply curious about how quickly Rin-san has been acclimating to everyday life. It must be an interesting process, helping someone with amnesia cope with their surroundings.”

Haru blinks. Oh yeah. He had almost completely forgotten about that whole lie. God, it seems like forever ago that he had quickly bullshitted his way through that explanation with Makoto, the lie more of a means of getting Rin to stop biting him than anything. He crosses his arms, looking back at where Nagisa’s now almost done with Rin’s left hand. “He’s fine.”

He can feel Rei’s gaze linger on him, friendly but not _friend_ ly enough to immediately realize that that’s about as much of an answer as he’s going to get. Turns out the only people who truly understand Haru’s brevity are Makoto, who’s been around him for so long that he’d be stupid _not_ to understand it, and Sousuke, who’s almost as much of an asshole as Haru is, and therefore understands through like-mindedness.

But the realization comes, and Rei simply turns with an, “Ah…” and then a few beats later, a genuine, “Well that’s good to hear.”

It settles into comfortable silence between them then, both watching their respective other halves interact together before them.

Haru shifts his weight, the ache starting to return low in his back. Nagisa’s almost done with the first coat. And Haru’s been subjected into being in Rin’s place enough times to know that there’s still the second coat, the clear top coat, and touchup to go. And that’s if Rin manages to sit still long enough. 

They’re going to be here for a while.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

  

Another sea shell. 

Bumpy and tulip-shaped.

Shadows and footfalls and the smell of the ocean.

Haru puts the shell next to the other three on his nightstand and goes back to sleep.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

His back is really bad tonight. He should’ve taken Coach’s advice and eased up today. But the water was so welcoming around him and it felt like it had been so long and Haru was greedy and couldn’t help himself and now. Now look at him. Hunched over in bed and pain throbbing low in his back. It hurts to move. It hurts to breathe. He rolls over with a groan and grabs a hoodie from his closet, moving as quietly as possible down the hallway and past where Rin’s curled up on himself in the living room. He’s finally sleeping again. Haru doesn’t want to ruin that.

He silently toes his shoes on, grabbing his keys from the hanger and impressed with himself that he’s made it this far without waking Rin up. Maybe some of that predatory stealth is rubbing off on him.

That’s amusing all in itself, he thinks, slowly twisting the handle to the front door and almost almost almost making it out if it weren’t for that loud _creak_ halfway through.

Haru sees the movement from the corner of his eye — Rin’s head lifting alertly and eyes locking onto him in the dark. 

Damn it.

“It’s okay,” Haru half-whispers, holding a hand out in an attempt to calm the confusion flashing in Rin’s eyes. “It’s—no, Rin. Stay here,” he says when Rin starts to move. “Stay here, I’ll be back, okay?”

But Rin doesn’t seem convinced — can probably see the pain that Haru’s most likely doing a shit job at hiding on his face.

“Rin,” he tries one more time, still halfway out the door. “I’ll be back, okay?”

It’s their phrase. Rin knows that phrase.

“Okay…?”

Slowly…reluctantly…Rin nods, that look of concerned confusion refusing to subside. 

But Haru takes it — nods like he’s convincing not only Rin but also himself — and then he’s stepping the rest of the way through the door, locking it behind him. 

The walk to the swimming facility is a short one — has been ever since he was a kid. The window in the back is still broken too, making it an easy entry point even with a fucked up back. Haru climbs through it and lands on his feet with a wince, the equipment room as messy and unorganized as it has been for years. He doesn’t know how Coach Sasabe manages to keep it like this with as much of a busy-body as his wife apparently is. If she’s anything like Miss A, there’d be labels and boxes and not a single floaty out of place. 

But that’s not what’s important now. What’s important is the welcoming smell of chlorine as Haru steps into the dark pool room, the moonlight that’s trickling in from the windows acting as the only light until he presses the button for the hot tub, the dim lights inside begin to glow amongst the bubbles. 

The hot water is almost as good as the gentle embrace of heavy pain killers, the jets on the wall of the tub almost as good as Makoto’s massage. But it’s enough. It’s enough because he doesn’t have heavy pain killers or Makoto right now and this is enough to relieve the angry bunching ache. 

Haru eases down until the water covers just below his nose, his eyes closing as the consistent stream of water pummels against his lower back. It’s good. It’s very good. It’s so good that he almost doesn’t hear the subtle echo off the high ceiling.

It's enough for him to slide back up, the water coming up to his collarbones as he lets his head lean back against the edge of the hot tub. “Come out, Rin.”

He doesn’t have to say it very loudly, his own voice now echoing off the ceiling as well. He waits as it fades out into nothing, meeting only silence until there’s a shift in the darkness and then Rin is emerging from his hiding spot like he’s been caught, not meeting Haru’s eyes until he’s close enough to sit near the edge of the water.

Haru glances up at him, eyebrows raising on their own from the strain. “You’re sloppy when you’ve just woken up,” he mumbles. “I could hear you since First Street.”

Rin probably doesn’t understand what that means, but it’s nice to have the upper hand every once in a while, so Haru allows himself the time to quietly gloat. 

They sit together for who knows how long, Haru soaking the pain away and Rin eventually stretching out until he’s lying on his stomach alongside the edge, looking around the pool room and at where Haru sighs to himself. Haru can’t shake the weird juxtaposition of it — Rin here, where Haru’s probably spent more time than anywhere else in his life. It’s a merging of two worlds. And Haru suspects that’s why he’s feeling just a bit off.

“Looks like you’re not the only one who disappears at night now,” he mumbles, the jab sitting heavy in his heart. He knows he’s not going to get a response, but he wants one — turns his head to the side and realizes too late how very close their faces are when he asks it, soft but determined. “Why do you keep leaving…”

Rin’s gaze is still but not without sentiment, the lights turned greenish by the water casting his face in a soft glow. 

Haru lets his eyes trail down it — something sad opening up in his chest. And it may be from the pain, or the fact that it’s three in the morning, or something altogether different, but when he asks it, it’s hushed and vulnerable. “…what am I doing wrong…”

He wants to take it back as soon as he says it, but his words are falling out into the open and drifting high up against the ceiling and Rin simply leans down, closing the little space left between them and pressing his lips against Haru’s.

Haru doesn’t see it coming. Never sees stuff like this coming. Has to just calm down and let his eyes close because this is a good thing and his heart taking off in his chest is a good thing. Has to let that pent up breath out through his nose and press forward a little until it’s a mutual thing — their kiss is a mutual thing — they’re a mutual thing. 

And suddenly his back hurting isn’t what’s most important. It’s Rin — silent but all-in — quiet but on-board when Haru breaks for a breath but then comes back with a gentle slide of his tongue that neither of them expect. And Haru has absolutely no idea if either of them are actually any good at kissing, but he knows that he feels it in every muscle in his body — every nerve ending as Rin smoothly glides his tongue alongside his. He feels it so much that he doesn’t really think about what he’s doing — too taken over by the feeling to stop himself from lifting his hand out of the water and resting it against the side of Rin’s neck until suddenly Rin’s lurching back, his mouth dropped open and lips kissed red and Haru has this moment of panic.

 “Shit. I wasn’t—” it doesn’t really come out as planned, Haru scanning Rin’s body for any sort of changes. “That wasn’t enough water was it?”

Rin reaches his hands out in front of his face, out of breath but worry seeming to die down when his inspection seems to come out positively. 

That’s a no. They’re fine. Haru’s just an idiot.

He sinks back underwater, all the way this time, regardless of the heat.

He seriously needs to get it together.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

The sun rises high in the sky and Haru’s running late, last night’s excursion turning out to be longer than he had really planned and cutting into his already interrupted sleeping schedule. He tosses a stack of books and the TV remote onto the table in the living room as he stalks by, throwing his bag over his shoulder and going through the basics of leaving on autopilot.

“I have practice for a long time today,” he says, opening his water bottle and bringing it up to his lips, “so Sousuke’s going to drop by, okay?”

“Sousuke.”

Haru sputters, water bursting across his face and down his shirt as his heart plummets into the very earth in one gigantic record-screech because—

He turns, brows coming together and mouth dropped open because—

 Because—

“…what?” 

Rin looks up at him, expression guarded. But then he blinks. And opens his mouth. And… “Sou-suke…” … _speaks_.

Haru can’t move. Can’t figure out if his heart is going a thousand beats a minute or has stopped altogether. Can’t get over the fact that—that Rin just _fucking spoke._

Blue fingernails glint in the sun as Rin raises his hand and places it over his heart, the guardedness in his posture simmering into something almost proud. Dignified. “Rin,” he says. And his voice is smoother and more wicked than Haru imagines a voice has any earthly right to be. 

But he wants to hear it again — is hooked with the very first syllable. He finds the strength to lift his own hand, a half-there gesture towards himself because… “And…me…?”

It’s a selfish request but he needs it. Needs the sparkle of acknowledgement in Rin’s eyes. Needs the subtle sweep of soft red hair over pale cheeks as Rin tilts his head almost fondly, his lips curling up into a warm smile before… “…Haru…” 

It’s terrible in the way it’s so beautifully reaffirming. The way it sinks into Haru’s very core. The way it makes his knees feel like they’re going to give out at any blessed moment.

He doesn’t know how long he’s frozen there until he slowly pulls his bag back over his shoulder, letting it drop to the ground with little grace before walking over to where Rin is sitting proudly on the floor. He drops to his knees beside him, words caught in his throat. And for the first time, Haru’s too caught up to even consider leaving for the pool.

He manages to text Sousuke not to come. 

He completely blows through practice without so much as a call to Coach Sasabe.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

“Do you know who this is? … …Rin?”

The amount of effort that Haru’s putting into this thing is definitely not being matched.

“Oi. Do you want me to tell you?” He’s starting to get a little desperate, his finger damn near wearing a hole through the picture of his old high school relay team that’s set on the table in front of them. “Makoto,” he states, annunciating as clearly as possible, tapping on the brunette’s face. For Christ’s sake, you’d think Rin would already have at least _that_ down with how frequently that names comes u—

“Ma…koto…”

Haru glances up, hope blooming even with the displeased scrunch of Rin’s nose as their eyes meet. But Haru can’t even be mad. Regardless of how Rin still apparently feels about Makoto, the progress of saying his name out loud is too good to pass up.

“Yeah. Good.” He’s smiling. He can feel it. “How ‘bout…” his finger hovers over the remaining two faces until landing on Nagisa’s own beaming grin. 

Rin follows his finger, silently looking over the photograph. There’s recognition there. He definitely realizes that these people are the people he’s been interacting with. But it’s understandable to be less familiar with Nagisa and Rei, Haru supposes. Not everyone can be a constant hovering shadow like Makoto.

Haru waits a second more… A clue wouldn’t hurt, right? “…Nnn…”

Rin’s concentration holds. Then he looks up.

“Nagisa,” Haru finally says. Maybe he’s pushing it a little with this whole name thing. Rin _had_ been super solid on at least theirs and Sousuke’s names—

He stiffens a bit, never going to be able to get over the complete bullshit that Rin’s first word had been ‘Sousuke’.

Yamazaki doesn’t need to know.

“Nnn…” Rin’s going for it, his brows coming together in concentration as he glances away like he doesn’t want to be watched. “…geesa…”

And wow. Okay, Haru really underestimated how endearing this was going to be — Rin sitting there, scowl in place and pink beginning to dust his cheekbones.

“Close,” he says, if not to save Rin, then to save himself from the warmth spreading in his chest. “We’ll… Let’s take a break.”

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

They all go out for a movie — or more like, the Dream Team, Makoto, and Sousuke all watch the movie while Rin decides thirty seconds in that he doesn’t like how loud and dark everything is so he pulls on Haru’s arm until they’re stumbling back down the dimly lit theater aisle. But Haru doesn’t really care — it’s not like he was very interested in the movie anyway. It’s a scary one, which means he was either going to be subjected to Makoto’s frightful cuddling or Sousuke was. And at least it paints an altogether better picture now — Makoto having someone bigger than him to hide behind instead of one very unaffected and much smaller Haru. 

Rin watches the lobby-goers who’re walking by with grave interest, already nonverbally expressing in no uncertain terms that he’s sick of Haru randomly trying to teach him words, and that he’s too proud to sound things out in front of him now anyway. Haru guesses he understands, flashbacks of being too embarrassed to speak in front of the class when they starting learning the basics of English circling in his head. That’s fine. Rin probably doesn’t need to know the words “popcorn” or “movie” or “ticket” any time soon anyway.

When the doors to the theater open, Makoto a ghastly shade of white and Nagisa clamped lovingly onto Rei as their group emerges, Haru is reminded of how much better it was to sit out in the lobby instead. 

“Haru-chan! Rin-chan!” Nagisa calls out to them, waving his free hand.

They both stand, Haru noticing out of the corner of his eye how small this particular shirt on Rin is. They should’ve double checked that before leaving the house. 

“Sorry you missed the movie,” Makoto smiles like he isn’t three shades paler than he should be. “I’m sure you would’ve liked it.”

“Yeah!” Nagisa beams, falling into the charismatic mannerisms of one of the main characters (probably), “Lots of action and jump-scares!”

“Although the zombie half-sister subplot was a little far-fetched…” Rei mutters under his breath.

“Aww, that was the best part, Rei-chan!”

“If you say so…”

“Anyway,” Makoto is quick to interject, “we were planning on stopping by the pier after this. You guys in?”

Haru glances over to where Rin is too busy watching a woman with a screaming baby to be paying attention. Typical. “Yeah.”

“Great!”  


Makoto’s color is returning, just in time for Sousuke to finish dumping the rest of the popcorn bucket into his mouth like the human garbage can he is — surprisingly in shape for the default person everyone gives their leftovers to.

Haru rolls his eyes. 

Makoto chuckles to himself.

Rin finally starts paying attention. “Sousuke.”

The choking noise that follows is phenomenal, Sousuke apparently inhaling the remaining popcorn and bending over to hit himself in the chest with a fist as he coughs up a storm in surprise. 

Makoto immediately rushes over, paling once again as he bends down to assess the situation in all of his nurse-like ways while Sousuke gets out a pained but startled: “…the fuck…”

Haru’s gotta admit he understands the feeling, the memory of when Rin had first spoken still remarkably fresh in his mind. (At least he had handled it better than Sousuke.) 

“WHOA, RIN-CHAN!” Nagisa’s bounding forward in no time, his excitement electric in the air as he gets up in Rin’s face, Rin leaning back as a result. “DO IT AGAIN! OOO~ SAY MINE!”

Two hands clamp down on the ecstatic blonde’s shoulders, his better half reining him in with a redirecting: “Now now, Nagisa-kun. It’s not polite to just rush up to people like that.”

“But Rei-chan, you heard him, right?!” 

“Of course, just as everyone in this lobby is now hearing _you_.”

Meanwhile, back on the floor, Sousuke’s windpipes must be clear and functioning because he’s found the strength to straighten once again with Makoto’s help, his gaze on Rin like he’s seen a ghost.

And altogether, Haru would just like to say that this scene of utter mayhem does an excellent job at making him feel better about how he reacting the first time.

When everyone’s done gawking at Rin (who is decidedly unsure of how to react), all eyes shift over to Haru, plain in their need for an explanation.

Haru simply blinks, tone even as usual. 

“So that’s what’s been going on lately.”

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

They still end up going down to the pier, but as soon as they get there, much to Haru’s prediction,Rin gets that look in his eyes. That look he gets when he chooses to go up in the lighthouse instead of into the ocean. That look of longing as soon as his gaze drops to the waves below. It’s the same look that works its way inside Haru’s heart and starts pulling — starts telling him to get with it — starts reminding him how selfish he’s being, wishing that Rin will stay with him when he belongs in the sea. He knows it. They both know it. And Rin stares down into the water like he’s in a trance, completely numb to whatever is happening around him.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

He’s gone for a long time that night. Haru hears the floorboards stop creaking just before he falls asleep, and find the sea shell on his pillow next to his face as the sun just begins its ascent.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

 

Grocery shopping is quick today. Haru only needs a few things since he’s been eating out with everyone a lot and Rin eats close to nothing anyway. The whole trip to the store takes less than an hour, Haru lifting the grocery bag out of his bike basket and heading around to the front door. 

“Home,” he mumbles, slipping his shoes off and too busy hanging his keys on the hook to notice how quickly Rin approaches him until he’s right there, quick but smooth and at ease as he grabs Haru by the face and plants a kiss on his forehead. 

Haru freezes, confusion bubbling up as Rin moves away again, completely unperturbed. 

That’s…new.

“Where’d you learn _that_?” He aims for calmness and lands somewhere in the ‘offset and unhinged’ area.

Rin walks back into the living room without so much as a head turn. “Sousuke.”

“What?” It slips out with much less composure than he wants. “Who’s he doing _that_ to?” If that asshole is laying one finger on Rin he swears to god— 

“Makoto.”

…

“ _What?”_ Haru’s stunned. Fucking flabbergasted. Clearly he heard Rin wrong. Clearly this is some mistake and Rin thought he saw something that he didn’t and—

“Ma-ko-to,” Rin repeats, breaking the syllables up like Haru’s been doing for him — like it’ll somehow lessen the look of complete and utter shock on the boy’s face in front of him.

It doesn’t.

Haru grabs for his phone, glaring down at it as he goes to thumb in Makoto’s number. 

But. 

No. He sets it back down, eyes closing in an attempt to compose himself. Even if it _is_ true — even if Makoto’s been up to stuff behind his back, it’s none of Haru’s business. 

Except. Except it’s _Sousuke._

Haru grabs at his phone again, the internal struggle eating away at him. God damn it.  

It’s then that he notices that Rin’s staring at him, the half-shark fixing him with one very judging raised eyebrow.

Okay. Okay yes, he’s right. Haru’s being stupid.

“You’re right.” Haru sets his phone back down, taking a breath through his nose before pushing his way into the kitchen. “You’re right.”

He’s halfway through unpacking the bag of groceries when that swirl of determination sets fire inside of him again, a stalk of celery just barely making it onto the counter before Haru’s shuffling back into the living room again, zeroing in on his phone. The hell does Makoto think he’s do—

Suddenly his phone is snatched out of his grasp, Rin plucking it from him with one hand and using the other to flick Haru square in the nose. 

It makes Haru take a step back, brows furrowing as he feels where he’d been flicked with a light, taken aback touch. …did Rin just…?

Rin shakes his head. Sternly. _Motherly_. And with that, he exits the room without so much as a word, the phone still in his clutches.

Haru blinks.

What the fuck is happening.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Enough time has passed where Haru should be calming down about this whole Makoto/Yamazaki thing. Maybe it’s because it came out of nowhere. Maybe it’s because this is something Haru should’ve recognized well before Rin, what with Makoto being his best friend since they were in diapers and everything. 

Haru eases further into the water, his back sinking against the cool foot of the bathtub as he does so. He just needs to soak and calm down. Stewing about it isn’t going to do anything. And he’s already had to angst in private, far away from Rin’s sharp, knowing gaze. 

It’s fine.  

It’s _fine._

It’s probably not what he thinks anyway. There’s always more to the story than what’s on the surface. And Rin’s still foggy on the subtle intricacies of human interaction. So…

So it’s fine.

The bathroom door slides open almost noiselessly, Rin welcoming himself into Haru’s quiet time with his usual amount of indifference. 

“What,” Haru grumbles, his mouth just barely above water. He’s a lot calmer than he was the last time he had a surprise visitor during his soak, because this time he’s older and wiser and has his suit on.

Rin continues to move forward, not bothering to close the door before approaching the bathtub and immediately stripping out of the pair of boxers that serve as his loose-fitting outfit of the day. 

Haru averts his eyes, Rin’s pretty pale skin somehow different and now able to get more of a rise out of him after that night with the dirty magazine. But the sudden shift in the air is enough to get him to pay attention again, a hand reaching out because Rin’s got a foot in the water and the tub is filled high so Haru can soak which means Rin’s added body—

“Wai—” Haru’s too late, water spilling over the sides of the bathtub and onto the tile floor below like a waterfall as Rin positions himself near Haru’s feet. “…—ait…”

Okay. He’ll have to clean it up later.

Rin makes himself comfortable at the other end of the tub, the complete lack of tension in his face doing nothing to help the growing tension in Haru’s, long legs coming together underwater and forcing Haru to adjust accordingly as they wait for the inevitable.

If he wasn’t purposely glaring a hole into the wall next to him to avoid the very naked, very still-human half-shark in front of him, Haru would notice that it’s Rin’s top half that starts transitioning first — soft skin splitting and gills forming on the sides of his neck, the familiar silver shine appearing across his knuckles as he reaches out to tap on Haru’s knee.

“What,” Haru huffs, monotonous and attention remaining elsewhere. He doesn’t get an answer — only another tap on the knee, harder this time. Haru frowns, whipping his head towards him. “ _What?”_

It’s the shampoo bottle that he’s met with, the shampoo bottle and a silver shimmer beneath the water. Rin’s done changing. And already demanding things.

Haru grabs the bottle out of his hand, his frown staying perfectly in place. “What, Nagisa doesn’t pamper you enough?”

It’s a rhetorical question. Sarcasm. Rin just blinks at him before shifting forward, his tail making a deep, awkward squeaking sound against the tub’s floor as he settles forward, laying himself belly-down between Haru’s knees to avoid crushing his dorsal fin. Haru glances down at him with a sigh, because what else can you do when you’ve got a mershark between your legs?

“Honestly,” he murmurs to himself, flicking the bottle’s cap open with his thumb and squeezing a glob of shampoo into his palm. 

Rin nestles himself closer, the friction of his stomach against more _sensitive_ areas enough for the warmth in Haru’s chest to suddenly take a detour south. 

For god’s sake…

He works the soap through Rin’s hair, fingers threading through soft burgundy, and it must be what the boy in his lap wants, because he immediately settles into an air of satisfaction, his hands rising from the water to lay against Haru’s chest, his chin then coming to rest on top of his hands.

And in the grand scheme of things, this isn’t entirely abnormal. Rin enjoys being pampered. This is a known fact. Rin enjoys helping himself to Haru’s personal space. Thisis  _also_ a known fact. But when that’s all clumped together with the addition of the sexual aggravation that Haru’s been trying to avoid lately, you get…well  _this_ . You get Rin, in an otherwise rather sexually-connotative position, eyes half-lidded as he looks up at Haru from between his legs. You get Haru, his face far from the only thing beginning to heat up, stroking his fingers through Rin’s hair and trying to avoid eye contact as best as he can, because Rin might not realize that it’d be weird to pop a boner right now, but Haru’s conscience sure does. And it’s all just a very compromising position that Haru wasn’t mentally prepared to deal with tonight.

So he tries to keep his attention on other things. The rough but slick thickness of Rin’s bottom half as his bare feet bump against it underwater. The fact that the end of Rin’s tail is sticking out and over the edge of the tub, adding to the ocean of a mess already on the floor with every drop. The subconscious way Haru’s thighs squeeze Rin’s waist when those blood-red eyes glance back up at him, a teasing smirk dancing knowingly across his lips.

Great. Rin knows. 

“Don’t,” Haru retorts chastely, his brows knitting together and cheeks no doubt reddening. But that smirk doesn’t falter, something worryingly heated flickering in his eyes.

Haru swallows, falling back on his attempt to look anywhere and everywhere else besides the person between his legs. It may be a temporary fix, but it does nothing about the sensation of Rin beginning to slowly creep up his body, his hands finding purchase on Haru’s waist — his biceps — his shoulders — until he’s pulled himself all the way up so they’re face to face.

Haru doesn’t really have a chance to complain, all the movement against him doing nothing but making his arousal more obvious and Rin deciding to take perfect advantage of that. The first brush of lips against Haru’s neck is barely-there but still enough to make his pulse quicken. The second is more passionate. Heavier. More obvious. 

The heated sigh that escapes Haru’s parted lips is a little more than betraying. “Rin…”

He’s said his name like this more times than he can count — a warning — almost scolding. It honestly probably just completely blows past Rin at this point. Either that, or Rin knows _exactly_ what’s going on and _exactly_ how fucked it gets Haru when he does something like this. 

The kiss to his jaw points pretty unflinchingly to the latter, Haru squeezing an eye shut as soap from Rin’s hair smudges across his cheek. 

“Oi,” he tries again, his pulse continuing to steadily quicken. “the bath isn’t the place fo—”

The sudden press of lips against his own does a solid job at not only shutting him up, but also getting his heart to skyrocket into the ceiling. Because he’s never going to be used to this — to kissing Rin — no matter how planned or unplanned it is.

The soap dissolves into the water as Haru’s hands drop into it, absentmindedly finding a place just above Rin’s dorsal fin. This is stupid. They’re in the _bath,_ for god’s sake. And it’s not that Haru hasn’t been subconsciously thinking about getting it on with Rin for the better part of the last few weeks, it’s just…

“…ha…” he breathes out shakily when Rin tilts his head to lick along his bottom lip. This is not where Haru thought he’d ever find himself — unmistakably hard and making out with someone in his bathtub — mershark or otherwise.  

He moves a hand up alongside Rin’s waist under the water, the transition from slick roughness to smooth skin rather interesting, but not interesting enough to pull him from the realization that one of Rin’s own hands is making its way down his chest, slowly nearing the waistband of his swim bottoms.

That’s when the subtle panic starts to kick in — the very real awareness that Rin’s about to do exactly what Haru _thinks_ he’s about to do.  

“Rin,” he mumbles against moving lips, his hold now coming to rest up on Rin’s shoulders. Because this is— they’re in the _bath_ — Haru really doesn’t know how many times he has to say it. “ _Rin_ , hold on.” But Rin’s determined, his fingers dipping below the stretchy band of fabric just as Haru reaches up, blindly grabbing at the tile wall before his fingers wrap around the cool metal of the hand-shower head and pulls it down, spraying Rin’s head at the very last possible second. 

Rin freezes, his shoulders tensing and eyes squeezing shut as the shampoo being washed out of his hair begins to drip down his face. 

It’s not exactly the most tactful response, or the most ingenious, but it buys Haru enough time to get his breathing back to normal and pulse back to a better-functioning state.

It takes about a minute to get all the shampoo rinsed out, Rin  patiently laying through it even though Haru can see that his interest in helping him with his situation has not died down. But at least they’re getting out of the tub, Haru reasons with himself, nudging the plug to the drain with his foot and waiting as the water empties out of the tub. 

Getting himself out from under Rin is a challenge all in itself, but he manages it, climbing to his feet and stepping out onto the slick floor. He doesn’t even have a step towards the towel hanging on the door before Rin’s grabbing his hand, staring up at him needfully from where he’s still laying down.

Haru has to admit it’s almost kind of cute. “I know. Hold on.”

If getting out of the bathtub was a challenge, wrapping the towel around Rin and hoisting him up so he can carry him into the bedroom is nearly impossible (and that’s not even including the fact that he does it all with an embarrassingly obvious hard-on). It pulls at his back, his muscles crying out to him as Rin’s tail flicks erratically as he tries to find his balance. It’s like trying to contain a 150 pound fish that’s freshly out of water, and Haru supposes a number of people wouldn’t be happy with him if they ever found out he was doing this with a bad back.

The tail-flicking stops right about the same time that Haru more or less dumps Rin onto his bed, Rin bouncing unsteadily as the mattress protests the sudden weight, only to bounce even more once Haru’s once again pulled back down by the hand.

“Wh—” it all happens in a series of movements that flow together so seamlessly that Haru barely understands how he ends up underneath Rin again, this time trapped by both of Rin’s hands that are planted firmly on the wet bedsheets on either side of his face. “Should— …shouldn’t we wait…” he offers breathlessly between kisses, “…for you to change back…?”

But Rin doesn’t seem to be interested — doesn’t seem to care that he’s still half-shark. Because…

Because this isn’t about _them_. This is about Haru. This is about Rin _making sure_ it’s about Haru.

Fingers dip below damp fabric, Haru barely making the connection until his swim bottoms are pulled over his hips and down his thighs. And he’s almost too overwhelmed by the fact that Rin’s doing this solely because he wants Haru to feel good to be embarrassed by the sudden exposure. 

Almost.

“R— …Rin,” he huffs, flustered and brows furrowing as Rin stares down at him, the absentminded licking of his lips going straight and unapologetically to Haru’s dick. “Don’t just stare,” he grumbles, looking away and pulling Rin down onto him by the shoulders so there’s no more room to look.

Rin must understand to some degree, because he answers with a quick peck to Haru’s forehead before moving back down to his lips. And it’s as awkward and graceless as last time — clumsy hands — not entirely confident passes of tongues over the other’s, over teeth, over lips — uneven breaths against each other’s mouths until Rin’s hand sneaks down between them and suddenly it’s a lot more Haru than it is Rin. It’s a lot heavier than just uneven. It’s a lot of Haru’s mouth dropping open and Rin kissing his neck instead because Haru couldn’t kiss back even if he wanted to.

And when Rin leans back, eyes taking in the boy beneath him — stretched out and panting and every square inch of him blushed a pretty red, Haru can’t help the immediate self-consciousness that washes over him.

“N—…” He can’t get the words out, his face so heated that he feels like he’s going to melt with every flick of Rin’s wrist— “D—…” —every movement that _Haru_ had taught him not too long ago. And now Rin’s staring down at him and watching him try to catch his breath and it’s all just so overwhelming that Haru has to sling an arm over his eyes, “D—…don’t look at me…”  

The heat is starting to curl in the pit of his stomach, Haru hyper aware of every sensation around him — the strong scent of shampoo and sweat and damp fabric — the heaviness of Rin between his bent knees — the slippery texture of Rin’s lower half as Haru’s other hand grabs for something to hold onto below his dorsal fin — the sparks beginning to pop at the base of his spine as Rin carries him so close so close so close until — 

“Haru…”

He goes off like he’ll never find the ground again, bright white and hot pleasure and the sensation of his heart both bursting and imploding at the same time from Rin’s voice. Because he said it again — he said his name again — and it drags the feeling out like it’ll never stop until Haru has to reach down, blindly putting his hand over Rin’s and not even caring about the wet stickiness because it at least puts a cap on all the explosions firing off in his nerves. And when his hips stop stuttering — when his lungs start taking in oxygen again — when he finally lifts his arm away from his eyes and looks up to where Rin’s already watching him, it feels like it all might start again.

Because Rin’s smiling. Accomplished. Teasing, almost. A loosely translated “aren’t you glad I didn’t let you stop us?”  

And Haru just has to let his head fall back onto the pillow because _god_ …if this is what his friends were talking about all those times they said they were into someone in the past, he guesses he kind of gets it now. 

Rin shifts over, holding his hand out toward Haru expectantly. The one that’s messy. The one he used to…well…to get him off. 

And yeah. Maybe it’s best they just get back into the bath.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

They fall asleep together that night, Rin finally changed back and tucked around Haru protectively, and Haru has to admit that he doesn’t hate it as much as he’s letting on. Because contrary to popular shark beliefs, Rin is warm. And calm. And still. (Even though he probably isn’t sleeping and is just doing this for Haru’s sake.) But even that in itself is enough to make Haru push back into him, their legs tangling together and Rin’s arm falling over and wrapping around Haru’s side. And Haru thinks, if they could just stay like this — if things could stop working against them and they could just be here, in bed, wrapped in each other, maybe everything would be okay. Maybe he wouldn’t have to walk around with a constant mental rain cloud hovering over him. Maybe he could, for once, be more content with things. All it would take is Rin, being Rin. All it would take is the two of them. And then everything would work out.

But the thing is, even if he doesn't want to acknowledge it, if there’s one thing that Haru knows all too well, it’s that things rarely end up going according to plan.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is fucking huge because I was blessed with a couple of Good Writing Days and couldn't control myself. It's technically the length of two chapters, but I don't want to split it up. So yes. Please buckle in ^_^
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: minor blood during the smutty parts

 

The stirring behind him is enough to wake Haru up, Rin carefully moving out from his position behind him on the bed and stepping over his bent legs. His feet hit the floor without a sound, and as he makes his way over to the door, moving so smoothly in the darkness that it looks like he’s gliding over the shadows, the missing warmth becomes almost crippling.

“Rin,” Haru calls out, but his voice is much too quiet — much too whispered and muddled with sleep. 

He’s paralyzed where he lays, body heavy and sinking into the mattress as Rin slips out the door without looking back.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

  

The seashell from last night’s disappearance rattles around in Haru’s pocket as they walk side by side through the aquarium, one hand rubbing over the smooth sides of the concealed shell and the other holding onto the bag of lunches that he decided (out of the kindness of his heart) to bring The Dream Team on their busy work day.

Rei is extremely thankful, his lab coat billowing in his self-created wind as he swoops over from his work space to take the offered food from Haru, not too busy to add a delighted: “You’re welcome to stick around and watch this dissection if you like. I only ask that you wash your hands and don’t touch anything.”

Haru politely declines, holding up the remaining lunch bag as a means of an out. Rei understands — of course he does — it is _Nagisa_ we’re talking about — and thanks them again before returning to work.  

The second half of The Dream Team is harder to track down, especially with Rin stopping at four out of the five exhibits they pass, very very interested in the jellyfish for some reason.

Do sharks eat jellyfish?

This would’ve been a question for Rei. 

Turns out, Nagisa’s working with the harp seals, two or three of them bopping around in the small feeding enclosure when Haru and Rin walk up. Haru leans his elbows against the half-wall of glass that acts as the partition between animals and aquarium guests, waiting patiently for Nagisa to notice them.

“Oh~! It’s Haru-chan and Rin-chan!”

That was easy.

Nagisa waves at them, the thin silver fish flopping lifelessly in his hand as he does so, and suddenly Haru’s wondering about what kind of mackerel dish to make once they get home.

“I’ll be right there!” Nagisa calls over to them, tossing the fish into the seal’s waiting mouth and patting its head before doing it again. “Almost done!” 

Haru nods, his eye twitching slightly at the sudden and very loud warbling coming from one of the freshly fed seals. Annoying. He glances over at Rin, ready to bet that he’s also reacting negatively to the noise. Except he’s not. He’s…Rin’s just standing there, body turned ever so slightly away from the enclosure, his gaze gone dark. 

Haru frowns, something sour swirling in his stomach. What’s that all about?

“All done!”

Nagisa’s burst of excited energy brings Haru back to the present, noting how the blonde waddles towards them along the fake rock that surrounds the water, his rubber boots and apron too big for such a small frame. Rei probably gets a kick out of that.

“What’re you guys doing here?”

“Oh,” Haru mumbles, lifting the bag as he remembers the entire point of this trip, “Lunch." 

Another burst of excitement. “Aw! You’re the best! And this is perfect too because I forgot to pack a lunch for me and Rei-chan today.” 

“We know,” Haru deadpans, the information having already been passed on by the marine-biologist in question. “Where do you want us to put it?” He can hardly pass the bag over the railing, not with those seals and the bulky rubber gloves Nagisa’s got on.  

“Hmm…why don’t you—oh!” 

Haru flinches a bit as a large gray body emerges from the water behind Nagisa and plops up onto the rock next to him, Nagisa delighted by the sudden intrusion regardless.

“Shinju! I already fed you, you greedy seal!” he grins, patting the seal on the top of the head. “Did you want to meet my friends?”

Shinju barks loudly, and Haru can’t help but notice how Rin tenses from it beside him.

“Okay okay, this is Haru-chan,” Nagisa explains happily, the seal following the direction its trainer is pointing.

Haru steadies himself, his patience thinning. “…hi.”

“And over here, this is Ri—”

The room explodes into a fit of noise before Nagisa can even finish, the seal taking one look at where Rin is standing and immediately backing up off the rock and into the water with a frantic racket. 

“Whoa whoa whoa—” Nagisa’s doing his best to regain even a slight level of composure, turning and kneeling down so he can talk to where Shinju just barely has its head sticking out of the water. “What? What is it?”

It all happens so fast that Haru has a hard time grasping what’s going on, the seal still barking and Nagisa trying to calm it down and suddenly Rin’s taking off in the opposite direction, towards an entrance to an exhibit Haru’s not familiar with and everything’s just so—

“Why don’t you just leave that there, Haru-chan,” Nagisa shouts over Shinju, motioning towards the bag as he pets the seal in front of him, “Rin-chan’s more important.”

Haru does just that — just sets the bag down by the glass and then hurries toward the direction Rin went, the racket slowly fading behind him the farther he goes.

It’s almost silent when he enters the empty exhibit, the informational displays glowing in the winding darkened rooms as Haru hurries through them, his head on a constant swivel for Rin. But he’s not there. And he’s not there and he’s not there until suddenly the path opens up into a large empty room — still darkened but flanked by high glass walls on both sides and Rin — Rin standing right in the middle, staring up at the creatures swimming slowly above him. 

Sharks. They’re in the shark exhibit.

Haru takes a few hesitant steps in, careful and calm even though calm is farthest from what he feels right now — how both of them feel right now.

“…Rin…?”

Silver lines of sinewy light dance over Rin’s skin, his pale complexion washed with deep, bottomless blues from the walls of water. His eyes track the movement around him, but it’s not territorial. It’s not aggression. 

It’s…uncertainty. 

Caution.

“Rin—”

The first steps he takes are unsure — abortive and hesitant and everything that Haru’s never seen in him before — everything that seems overall very un-Rin-like and therefore very troubling. He walks until he’s right up to the wall of glass, eyes trained on the sharks as they thread through schools of slowly moving fish. And then slowly, ever so slowly, he reaches up, and presses a hand against the glass.

Haru watches for a moment — lets him stand there and get acquainted — before coming to rest next to him without a sound. 

The room is dead silent except for the subtle trickle of filtered water above them. A shadow ghosts over Rin’s face as another shark passes by, lingering for a moment but never really stopping, even when Rin follows after it with his hand until it’s too far away. 

Haru swallows, desperate to know what’s going on in his head. And when he speaks, it’s softly enough that his voice doesn’t even echo off the high ceiling. “Rin…” He waits until there’s recognition, and when there isn’t any, he gently nudges at the hand dropped at Rin’s side. “Rin. Hey.” Their fingers lace together, enough of an acknowledgement that Haru accepts it and continues. “I know this is confusing…and that they aren’t where they belong…but humans—…” Stringing words together is suddenly one of the most difficult things Haru’s ever had to do. But he knows what he wants to say. He just has to _say it_. “Rin,” he tugs gently on his hand until Rin finally turns his head, the sadness in his eyes unmistakable, “This won’t happen to you. I won’t do this to you. Okay?” Rin watches him — takes it in or maybe doesn’t — and Haru doesn’t want there to be any room for doubt, so he takes his free hand and presses it against Rin’s chest — solid and promising and final. “I won’t do this to you.”

A school of fish shimmer against the artificial light.

A shark casts its shadow down onto them as it glides along. 

The two of them stand there for what feels like an eternity, and Haru hopes upon hope that Rin is understanding what he’s saying.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Leaving for practice is extremely difficult that afternoon, because Rin may follow Haru back home and do things without making a fuss, but Haru can see the difference in him — in his carry — in the way his gaze has become hazy and far off again.

But he drops him off at Sousuke’s because that’s what the routine is. That’s what they’ve been doing. That’s what’s normal. And Haru waits until Sousuke is busy with something in another room before nudging his hand into Rin’s again, close and hushed. “I’ll be back, okay?”

Rin nods. 

Haru leaves.

It’s routine.

Until it’s not. Until Haru’s taking five on the bench next to the pool and he hears his phone vibrate in his bag. Until he throws his towel over his shoulders and digs until he finds it, a new message from Sousuke popping up on the screen. Until he reads it, eyes scanning over the words and the echoes of people’s voices dying out into something muted and far away.

_somethings up with rin - come when u can_

His towel falls from his shoulders and onto the floor but he doesn’t hear it — doesn’t hear the impact of bodies in the water. All he hears is his heartbeat pulsing against his ears. His heartbeat and, “I have to go.” 

Coach Sasabe turns from where he’s watching someone else’s backstroke, surprise obvious in his tone. “What’s that? You’re leaving?”

But Haru’s already got his towel stuffed into his bag and is halfway down the length of the pool, his feet slapping against the wet pavement as he goes. 

The words in Sousuke’s message repeat over and over in his head as he runs, the sun drying his skin as he only realizes now that he didn’t even put his shirt on over his suit. _Something’s up with Rin_. What? What happened? What’s wrong?

Haru’s bare feet ache by the time he’s made it to Sousuke’s front door. And he knows he’s eventually going to feel really stupid for running all the way over here in his suit, but right now all he cares about is—

“What happened?” 

Sousuke’s eyebrows raise a bit at the immediate questioning, his hand still on the doorknob. “Did you run here?”

“ _What_ _happened?”_ Haru’s so far past the patience it takes to talk to this man.

Sousuke looks over him once, no doubt drawing his own conclusions about him in his head, before opening the door further and stepping aside. “I don’t know,” he says calmly as Haru pushes past him, but there’s definitely something else lurking subtly in his tone. “He seemed weird ever since you dropped him off. I was doing some paperwork and then he just ran into the bathroom and locked himself in.”

Haru frowns, moving with zero hesitation to where the bathroom door is indeed sealed tight. Could he be sick? He turns to Sousuke, who has now joined him and is leaning against the opposite wall. “Did he say anything?”

Sousuke shoots him a look. “Are you seriously asking me that?” 

“I’m teaching him words I just wanna know if he said anything.” It all rushes out in one breath and honestly it startles Haru just as much as it seems to startle Sousuke, the taller man raising his eyebrows in surprise once again.

But it must be enough for Sousuke to start to grasp just how shaken Haru is by this whole thing, because he sighs through his nose, letting his eyes close as he takes everything down a few notches. “No. Just locked himself in there and refuses to come out. I’ve been trying for a while.”

Haru’s chest hurts. “How long.”

“An hour, maybe.”

An hour. Haru’s frown deepens and he steps forward, both hands on the closed door. “Rin?” He’s met with nothing but silence — not even any sounds of movement. He tries again. “Rin.” 

Nothing. 

“That’s weird,” Sousuke mumbles seriously, crossing his arms. “I thought he’d respond if it was you.” 

That comment has a weird way of working itself into Haru’s heart, even if he’s too worried at the moment to decipher if it’s a good or bad thing. 

“It’s probably because I’m still here.” Sousuke’s talking again, and moving this time, hoisting himself off the wall with a huff and starting to make his way down the hallway. “Maybe if it’s just you.”

Haru watches him go, his figure disappearing down the hall until it’s only Haru standing there, a hand on the doorknob, the other on the actual door. And suddenly everything just sort of stops spinning and crashes down onto him, a score of emotions swirling inside of him as he presses his forehead to the cool wood and tries one more time. “Rin, it’s me… Let me help you…”

There’s silence — cold and stark and unwelcoming — and then the slightest shift — the slightest brush of movement behind the door. 

Hope blossoms, Haru turning his head so his ear is pressed against it. “Rin? Rin, open up.”

More movement — something dragging — and then the doorknob stirs in Haru’s hand. 

Haru immediately lets go, taking a step back and adrenaline beginning to take flight again as the doorknob turns all the way, the door itself opening just a crack until Haru can see a sliver of Rin’s face — his hoodie — his— 

Haru pushes through the door ever so gently, careful not to move too fast or make unnecessary noise as he steps into the bathroom, his eyes landing on Rin’s curled form — the black fabric of his hoodie leading down to the smooth, silver expanse of his tail.

He quietly closes the door behind him without looking, locking it again before dropping to his knees in front of where Rin is curled in on himself, his back resting against the wall between the toilet and the shower.

“Hey,” he almost whispers, not sure if he should reach out for him or not. “Hey…what is it?" 

And honestly, it’s like he might as well still be on the other side of the door, because the response he gets is nothing. Not even an acknowledgement of his presence. 

The hope that was once blossoming starts to die out, but Haru’s made it this far. And he knows that Rin only changes for one of two reasons. And right now, he’s as dry as a bone. “It’s because of the sharks at the aquarium, right?”

The lingers between them. Knowing. Honest. Then slowly, Rin’s brows start to pull together into a resentful scowl.

That’s it. Or at least part of it, at least.

“Rin,” Haru starts, but as soon as he goes to shift forward, Rin’s body moves away, his arms coming to loosely wrap around himself. It’s enough to make Haru’s heart hurt for a whole other reason. But he doesn’t push it. Not with how upsettingly unknowing he is of Rin’s next move,  even after all this time.  So he just changes directions, slots himself up against the wall next to him without actually touching him, and lets the tension ease off on its own.

He already said what needs to be said at the aquarium. They had their moment — at least Haru _thought_ they did. But there’s no doubt that Rin’s still wildly upset enough that he’s transforming from overwhelming emotion — something he hasn’t done in such a long time — something Haru honestly thought that he had gotten over.

And yet. 

“I’ve been selfish…”

Rin doesn’t turn. Doesn’t make eye contact. Hasn’t since Haru left for practice.

But Haru keeps going. “I… _am_ selfish. I just want—…” He stretches his legs out, the bathroom tile cool on his calves. “I’m keeping you when I shouldn’t be.”

He’s been thinking it for a while now, but saying it out loud — actually acknowledging his greediness — is like a punch to the gut from his own fist. But it’s his own fault. He’s the one doing this — wanting this — wanting _Rin_ …

“I like…to think you want to be here too… …but you’re going to the sea at night,” he says softly. Then his gaze falls. “You want to leave, don’t you?”

He expects the silence. He expects the emptiness between them. What he doesn’t expect (on the contrary — the _last_ thing he expects), is the slow but deliberate way Rin slumps against him, tired, before reaching up, his gaze still dropped away as he rests the side of his nose against Haru’s. A nuzzle — slow but real and enough to blow right through his heart. 

Haru’s eyes flutter shut, his pads of his fingers softly brushing over the slits of Rin’s gills as he rests a hand over his neck. He doesn’t know if this is an answer to his question — if Rin even knows the answer to his question — but for right now, he’s simply satisfied with finally being acknowledged. 

Rin nuzzles against him a bit deeper, his arm coming to wrap around Haru’s middle and his tail brought in closer to his body as he lets more of his weight settle against him.

And that’s how they stay together, cold and tired and huddled up on Sousuke’s bathroom floor as they wait for Rin to settle and his transformation to happen.

…

 Haru stirs awake to the sound of voices. One deep. Monotonous but not uninterested. Sousuke. The other higher and kinder and good in Haru’s brain as he floats in and out of understanding.

“…seems to be good for him, even if they… …little incompatible…”

“…kidding me? …—only says one word at a time. He talks more than Nanase, for Christ’s sake…”

“Now now… You know what I mean." 

“Uh huh. I think you’ve been working too much lately, Makoto.”

Haru’s eyes fly open at that, the haze of sleep dissolving just like that.

Makoto.

Makoto’s here. With Sousuke.

Rin stirs next to him, having somehow shifted in his own slumber so that most of his weight is now slumped up against the shower door, their fingers laced together. 

“It’s the normal amount for clinicals, Sou…”

Makoto’s voice is much quieter than Sousuke’s, but Haru can still hear it if he tries, half his brain devoted to that, and the other half realizing that Rin has changed back within the time they had been sleeping — long, smooth, pale legs pressed together under the hem of the black hoodie that Haru had let him borrow this morning. It’s kind of a miraculous sight all in its own. But that’s not what’s important right now. What’s important right now is that Haru sneakily slides away from him and out the bathroom, padding down the hallway and expecting the worst as he lingers by the entrance to the living room, Makoto and Sousuke both coming into view. 

They’re each leaning a shoulder against the closed front door, not nearly enough space between them for Haru’s liking as they continue to speak, none the wiser to the third presence in the room.

“We knew this new clinical would be a little tricky,” Makoto says, and it’s so so so weird to see him looking up at someone when he’s already the height of a skyscraper.

Sousuke’s expression is as cool as ever, their consistent and effortless eye-contact making Haru uncomfortable, and he’s not even involved. “Maybe… It’s just been hard to align schedules lately.” 

Makoto smiles — a breathy, teasing laugh. “Now…someone’s awfully pouty.”

A frown makes its way across Haru’s face as Sousuke leans in a bit, his head tilted down with his own teasing smirk and a hushed: “Fuck off…”

“Rin’s fine,” Haru interrupts at full volume before the unthinkable can happen, his intrusion setting both of the men in front of him in opposite directions, Makoto nearly jumping out of his goddamn skin. 

“Oh!” he chirps, his hands suddenly coming up like he doesn’t know what to do with them even though he wasn’t doing anything with them in the first place. “Haru! How’s Rin?"

If it wasn’t for the fact that Haru’s fuming right now, the look on Sousuke’s face would be fucking priceless, his normally calm appearance tumbling off into something startled and like his brain is going a trillion miles a minutes as he tries to think of valid excuses for what just happened.  

“Rin’s fine,” Haru deadpans, “Like I just said.”

“Oh that’s—that’s great!” Makoto’s doing his best at feigning composure, Haru has to give it to him, but it’s almost impossible to believe when his voice is about three octaves too high. “What was wrong?”

“He was sick.” 

“Was he? That’s too bad.” 

“Mm.” Haru’s voice has never been so sternly scrutinizing. “Is that why you came over?” 

The question throws Makoto for a loop, his mouth opening but nothing coming out. He glances over to Sousuke, who simply stares back, much more put together. “Yyy…yes!” Makoto finally says. “Yes. I’m glad to hear he’s doing better now.”

His jitteriness peters off as he stands there and waits for Haru’s response, who simply stares back at him, unwilling to accept such an obvious lie. The seconds tick by awkwardly. This is not going well.

“Alright! Well I think I’ll be going.” The nerves must finally get to him, because he’s feeling for the doorknob before even turning. “Since everything’s okay now and everything.”

He’s so obvious. He’s so _fucking. obvious._ Haru has to kind of love him for it even though he’s so pissed right now.

“Here,” Sousuke finally  says, putting him out of his misery and opening the door instead when the task seems to be too much for him.

“Ah, thanks. I’ll see you both later!”

And then he’s gone. 

And Sousuke turns back around. And stares. And Haru stares. And it’s a standoff so thick with tension that Makoto can probably feel it from where he’s most likely kicking himself behind the door.  

Haru frowns. Sousuke tilts his head up a bit. Challenging. 

“Rin needs pants,” Haru says instead, and it might not cut through the tension in the most positive way, but it’s enough to stop him from doing something stupid.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Haru’s extremely stressed when they get home. Rin’s extremely stressed when they get home. Both of them are extremely stressed when they get home so it just sort of happens naturally — Haru’s back against the wall — Rin’s mouth on his neck — Haru’s hands under that stupid fucking hoodie until he decides _fuck it_ and just pulls it off him entirely. The surge of adrenaline and anxiety and aggression all swirls together and pushes them until Haru’s pulling off clothes like they’re what’s weighing his skin down — until Rin’s open-mouthed kisses turn hot and stinging and perfectly painful — until Haru’s reaching between them and jerking both of them off and he swears he’s never made this much noise in his entire life, his body at a constant 10 from the ones Rin’s making against his skin. 

Because this isn’t something he thought he needed. This isn’t something he planned on having on his mind more often than it’s not. But this is _Rin_. This is blue fingernails grabbing at his sides. This is deep dark red boring straight into his very core. This is Rin baring down between Haru’s neck and his shoulder — a scrape of teeth that without warning doubles in pressure and then Haru’s mouth is dropping open from the sensation of it — the white hot pleasure-pain — the searing pricks of sharp teeth piercing delicate skin. 

Haru’s eyes fall shut, tears gathering at the corners and a sound he’s never heard before escaping his lips as Rin bites down. He can’t move even if he wanted to, his grip on Rin’s arm tightening into something painful but not as painful as this — not as good as this. Rin’s jaw relaxes, and Haru can barely contain himself when he feels his tongue start to lap at the blood beginning to pool in the curve of his collar bone. Because if this is it, if this is how he’s going to die or pass on or realize how fucking _gone_ he is, he can 100% guarantee that that’s fine.

He comes in a satisfying quake of his body, slumping against the door and against Rin and he’s not sure if Rin came yet or not but it doesn’t matter right now because _fuck,_ he’s not entirely positive he isn’t going to pass out in the next ten seconds.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

He doesn’t. He doesn’t pass out. But the sharp red indents and pricks of dried blood that stand out on Haru’s neck serve as a constant reminder of what happened. They’re also obvious enough that Haru has to wear a scarf over to Makoto’s. The last thing he needs right now is to be questioned about bite marks. Not when Haru’s got enough questions of his own.

“I know about you and Yamazaki.”

Makoto pauses, the tea trickling to a stop in the pot in his hand. But then he looks up, his trademark happy-go-lucky smile in place. “Oh? What’re you talking abou—”

“Rin saw you too.” Haru doesn’t even wait for him to be done bullshitting. 

And Makoto must see that he won’t be taking it either, because he gently sets the pot down, his eyebrows furrowing together tiredly as he sighs like he knew this day would come. “Haru… I know you two might not see eye to eye all the time—” 

“But why _him?”_ Haru’s just not going to let him finish any sentences tonight with the way this is going. And yes, he’s aware that he sounds like a child who’s upset with his mother’s choice of a new boyfriend, but this is serious business.

Makoto wipes his hands on his pants before taking a seat next to him, his words chosen carefully. “You only see the bad in Sousuke. You know that, right Haru?”

Haru grunts.

Makoto accepts it. “Well there’s a lot of good in him that you _don’t_ see too. Like…” he thinks on it for a second before looking back, “For instance, he’s very sweet when you’re not spending your days provoking him.”  

Direct hit. “I don’t provoke him.”

Makoto smiles. “You do, but that’s not the point.”

“Then what’s the point?” Haru’s scowling. He can feel it.

But Makoto simply continues with a kind of grace that he definitely would’ve benefitted from a few hours ago. “The point _is…_ I’m happy when we’re together. And he seems to be happy too. And I think you might change your mind if you could see what it’s like when it’s just the two of us— Oh Haru, don’t pout.”

“I’m not.” He is. He’s pouting and his scarf is itchy and Makoto’s with _Sousuke_. “How long?”

“How long what?”

“How long have you been forehead-kissing?”

Makoto doesn’t answer right away, no doubt slipping into Haru Translator mode until he must deduct what he’s asking. And when he does, that twinge of discomfort is back again. “You…probably don’t want me to answer that.”

Haru frowns. “Before or after Rin?” Because Rin seems to be a good measuring point for a lot of aspects in Haru’s life, so why not here as well?

“Well..." Makoto clears his throat, his gaze skittering over towards the window. "…before.”

And it’s like someone’s squeezing the air out of Haru’s lungs. Because _seriously?_ How did he not notice this before? How did _Rin_ , a _mershark_ with shaky understanding of human interaction notice before _him?_ Do Nagisa and Rei know?

“Haru…correct me if I’m wrong…” Makoto starts off, a bit unsure of himself but solid enough to continue. “…but is this all because you’re actually stressed out about you and Rin?”

Haru whips his head back toward him. “What?” 

“Whatever’s going on between you two, you’ve been different. Not _bad_ , necessarily…but just…”

Haru frowns, crossing his arms and glancing away. Of all the nerve. “Nothing’s going on between us.” He lies so easily. It’s always been an infamous talent of his — but a talent that Makoto can see through nonetheless.  

“I’m just saying,” he says knowingly, his tone dying down a bit, “it’s okay to care a lot about him. You know that, right?”

Haru scoffs. Obviously. Obviously he cares about him. A lot. Like…

Like…a lot a lot…

“We’ve all just noticed, is all.” Makoto smiles, and his words are sticking naggingly in Haru’s brain. “And if you ever wanted to tell us, or just me even, about something regarding you guys…well, I just want you to know that we’d all be very supportive.” 

Haru swallows, glaring into the carpet. Because what is Makoto trying to say?That it’s alright to have Rin on the brain almost always? That the need to be with him isn’t solely because he’s selfish? That the heavy feeling in his heart isn’t just because of anxiety, but because he loves—

…suddenly everything eases to a stop. 

All the brain noise.  

All the movement around him. 

Everything creeps to a halt, and it’s nothing but Haru and the realization that’s been chipped away from something ruminating deep within him for a long time now. It _isn’t_ anxiety. Well, some of it is. But mostly, it’s just…

_Fuck_.

“…Haru?”

Haru blinks, things slowly starting to slip back into the proper speed.

… _fuck._

“Haru, are you okay?”

“I have to go.”

“What, where’re you—”

But Haru’s moving, making his way towards the front door and his scarf falling a bit and Makoto’s eyes landing on his neck and: 

“Haru, wait—” 

But the door slams behind him. And it’s the second time he’s rushed out on someone today.

…

Rin’s aggravatingly not there when he gets home — the one thing he wants. The front door is unlocked and all the lights in the house are off and Haru has to physically force himself to not change direction on a dime and run down to the lighthouse — has to physically force himself to sit down and take a few breaths and get his head on straight — to pull Rei’s old laptop out of his desk and turn it on and squint at the sudden glaring brightness of the screen because he’s so frazzled that he forgot to actually turn any of the lights back on. 

He knows Makoto’s trying to call him over and over again. He can hear his phone ringing in his bag from practice, the one that he never unpacked because he and Rin were too busy getting on each other as soon as they walked in the door today. He boots up the internet on the laptop, unraveling the scarf from his neck and welcoming the cool air against his skin as he types it in, his fingers feeling over the indentations.

_‘neck biting — sharks’_

The search yields hundreds of results, but Haru only has the patience to click one. The first one, to be exact. 

His eyes scan over the words on the screen, bypassing the information-heavy introduction until they stick on the ones that count — the ones that explain what the fuck Rin was doing today. 

_‘…the use of biting to hold a female in place is nearly universal among species of sharks. This is called pre-copulatory biting, a pre-mating ritual…’_

Haru reads over it again before letting out his held breath, collapsing tiredly back against the wall. 

Mating. 

Rin wants to mate with him.

He doesn’t even know what to search next. He’ll be damned if they’re going to do it when Rin’s half-shark. Haru may not know the specifics of shark sex, but he has to assume that even the traits that all-human Rin retained will be a handful, especially with how rough he was today.

Haru stops for a moment, the general knowledge of it already reached him, but the actual, full realization dawning on him like a lightbulb over his head.

Rin wants to mate with him. 

_Rin_. Wants to _mate_. With _him._

Mate. 

Fuck. 

They’re going to have sex.

The panic that swirls inside Haru’s stomach is sour, the awareness that he has approximately zero knowledge about sex now dawning on him as well. Of all the people Rin could’ve gotten attached to, he has to pick the one sex-illiterate person in town. 

“Shit…” Haru grumbles to himself, grudgingly typing his next search into the box. He hovers his finger over the ‘enter’ key, grimacing and turning his face away from the screen as much as possible.

He has to do this. For both of them.

Okay.

He takes a breath.

And presses enter.

 …

“…oh…”

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Rin doesn’t come home for a long time — far longer than it takes for Haru to wince through enough information and how-tos to feel pretty confident — far longer than it takes Haru to run to the 24-7 store and angrily blush his way through buying the proper supplies, his face in a permanent scowl that could scare off even the nosiest of people — far longer than it takes Haru to get sick of waiting, his impatience and curiosity getting the better of him, and it’s a good thing he looked this up because he never would’ve thought that doing _that there_ was part of it. 

In fact, Rin’s gone so long that Haru falls asleep waiting for him, the moonlight casting over him through the window as it sets in the sky and the sun takes its place.  

He stays for as long as he can, time dragging by at a snails pace, before the need to see Rin starts to get almost unbearable. But he can’t go down to the lighthouse, he’d already decided against that weeks ago, when Rin had started disappearing at night. The lighthouse — the sea — that’s Rin’s sanctuary. No matter what reason he goes there, it’s obvious that he needs time and space to himself, and if Haru went down there and ruined that, there’d be no forgiving himself. So no. No, Haru has to just stay up here, on dry land, where he belongs. And Rin will come back. Because he always does. 

The small clock on his bathroom sink clicks to an exact 6:30pm, his restlessness having him chomping at the bit.He rubs his towel over his hair before tossing it over his bare shoulders and reaching up to wipe a hand over the foggy mirror. The strip of clarity that his hand leaves in its wake is troublesome — tension near his eyes — keyed up muscles. Even _Haru_ can tell he’s on edge.  

He adjusts the towel around his waist before opening the door, steam pouring out and evaporating into the cool air of the hallway as he steps out. There’s nothing he can do about it. He just has to keep doing his thing and wait until Rin gets—

Haru’s steps falter at the movement in the living room, one turn of his head all he needs to see how the boy in question is in fact slipping through the doorway, the sunset visible behind him before he quietly closes it, turns, and then looks up.

And then suddenly, they’re like a mirror image of each other, both quiet and caught and still where they stand. And just like that, Haru can feel his heart start to grow heavy again, two hands clenched around it as Rin stares right back at him. It’s heavy but it’s not anxiety-heavy. Not _just_. It’s…  

Haru takes a step forward, Rin doing the same after a moment of silent deliberation, and the expanse between the hallway and the front door feels as if it’s stretching out below him like a dreamscape, but he keeps walking — keeps his eyes forward — keeps moving until they’re meeting somewhere in the middle, the oranges of the setting sun casting against them from the patio door. 

Something light and airy flits around in Haru’s chest from the closeness they now share — just enough room between them for Rin to steadily lift his closed hand, his knuckles barely brushing against Haru’s collar bone as he waits. 

Haru already knows what it is before it falls into his palm, this particular sea shell smaller than the other ones, but still beautiful with its flecks of smokey gray. He turns it around in his hand, examining each side, before glancing back up to where Rin’s now carrying out an appraisal of his own, his eyes skimming over Haru’s face, down the curve of his bottom lip, ever further down his chest and to where the damp white towel hangs tightly on his hip.

And normally, it should be enough to make Haru self-conscious — to have him maybe take a step back and get some space. But right now, all it does is light that spark of attraction inside of him. Warm. Heavy. Interested. Because he’s been waiting for almost a day now, and now Rin’s here, and Rin’s close, and Rin’s looking over him like he might be feeling the same exact thing.

Haru lets his hand fall to his side, the shell safe in his closed palm as he tilts his head up, Rin following down as well until they’re lingering just shy of contact, their lips parted and Haru’s pulse heavy with the breath between them.

They’re still just shy when the knocking on his front door filters in through the silence, both of them stilling but not moving away either — a pause in the space between them where neither of them know how to proceed.

The knocking comes again, this time accompanied by a voice that’s all too familiar. 

Haru’s eyes fall shut. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he can’t guarantee that he can stop himself once he starts. So he pulls away, trying not to notice Rin’s disappointment as he remains still while Haru walks around him, like he can’t believe this is happening either.

When the front door opens, Nagisa is looking up at him with a sheepish grin, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah, Haru-chan! Sorry for bothering you, but can I borrow that one— Haru-chan, did you get bit by a dog?” 

Haru glances down to where Nagisa’s attention has fallen, just now remembering that — oh yeah, he’s still in a towel. Which means Rin’s bite mark is perfectly in view.

“ _What_ did you want?” he asks sternly instead, trying to speed this process up because he can feel how Rin’s turned around and has his gaze fixed on him again.

“Uhhh oh!” Nagisa’s back to his normal self in a heartbeat. “Can I borrow that one marine life book you have? The one with the chapter on beluga whales? They want me to start working with one of the older ones down at th—”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Haru’s already walking away from the door before Nagisa can finish his explanation, the blonde zooming past him and towards the bookshelf before _he_ can get there.

And for once, the breakneck speed that Nagisa carries his life out at is refreshing and appreciated. “Okay, let’s see…” he hums to himself, squatting to examine the lower shelf. 

Haru can still feel the gaze fixed on him. He shifts his attention over to Rin, who’s watching him like a hawk from across the room, his head tilted up a bit as his eyes trail over the curving muscles of Haru’s torso. It’s like a siren song, Haru wanting nothing more than to just kick their uninvited guest out and finish what they didn’t even get to start. 

“Hmm…” Nagisa’s having a hell of a time finding that book. 

And Haru’s having a hell of a time fighting down the arousal blooming inside of him with every lingering sweep of Rin’s eyes over his body.

“Oh…is this it…?” Nagisa’s mumbling to himself again, pulling a book off the shelf and paging through it, completely unsuspecting of the tension mounting between the two others in the room. “Yes! I found it, Haru-chan!” 

Haru swallows, steadying himself as Nagisa springs back up with a smile. Rin doesn’t even have the common courtesy to not give him an obvious up-down as he passes, leading their houseguest back towards the door without a word.

Because Nagisa’s already speaking. “You know, if you wanna come down to the aquatic center to make sure you don’t have rabies from your bite—”

“I don’t have rabies,” Haru ensures rigidly. 

“Are you sure? Did you get it checked out?”

The urge to say something revealing for the sake of ending this conversation is substantial. Like ‘yes, sharks don’t carry rabies’. Instead, he goes with a simple: “Yes.” 

“Oh. Well that’s good!” Nagisa’s smiling again, walking out the door that’s being opened for him and turning on the front step to offer one last: “Alright! Thanks for letting me borrow the book! Night, Haru-chan!” and then a peek past Haru’s shoulder, “Night, Rin-chan!”

“Night,” Haru deadpans. And then he’s shutting the door. And he’s turning. And Rin’s looking at him like he knows what he wants but he’s not sure if it’s really okay to have it yet.

So Haru takes it upon himself, scaling the distance between the door and Rin and not even stopping when he reaches out and grabs Rin’s hand on the way. Rin gets with the program quickly, following after him with zero resistance as Haru leads them down the now darkened hallway.

Haru doesn’t bother to flick the lamp on when they get into the bedroom, the sunset still enough to see by as he directions Rin onto the bed, Rin’s back leaning against the headrest as Haru takes a breath to steady himself and then climbs into his lap, a knee on either side of him. Rin’s hands waste no time sliding down Haru’s bare back as their mouths hover close again, an unintentional resurrection of however many minutes back, before Haru dips down and finally slots his lips against Rin’s.

It’s a rush and a kick and Rin slides their tongues together without hesitation — everything they wanted to do but couldn’t do but _can_ do now. Haru swallows down a noise from the back of his throat because it’s much too soon — much too soon for sounds that he has no control over. Instead he busies himself by pulling Rin’s shirt off, the feeling of Rin’s hands leaving his back as his arms stretch out over his head from it. But it’s worth it, because honestly that self-consciousness from being the least dressed out of the two of them was starting to return with a vengeance.

Rin’s shirt gets tossed onto the floor and then he swoops in immediately, his back coming up off the headrest as he leans forward to kiss along Haru’s shoulder — over the indentations he had left last time — down his chest and then back up toward his neck.

Haru lets his mouth drop open in a sigh as he tilts his head back to bare his neck, allowing Rin to press his lips up the column of his throat. It’s the occasional graze of teeth against his skin that gets Haru harder than anything — the understanding of just what kind of a position he’s put himself in. Rin could do it if he really wanted to — could sink his teeth into tender flesh and kill just like that _if he really wanted to_. And there’s something about the risky unpredictability of it all that maybe gets Haru higher than he’s ever been before.

But Rin doesn’t bite him — doesn’t give into primal instincts that are most definitely still lurking under there somewhere. Instead, he grazes his teeth against Haru’s adams apple before lapping over it with his tongue, danger looming but not gone.

And it’s all a bit much for Haru, who can’t promise how long it will be before he abandons his whole plan for the easy out of simply rutting together instead — no pressure — nothing _new_. It sounds nice but what sounds even nicer is pushing forward. Going all the way. Because Haru thinks they stopped playing it safe a long time ago.

So he takes Rin by the shoulders and pushes him back against the headrest, Rin looking up at him with a kind of confusion that Haru knows he can spell out for him in just a minute if he’s patient. And patient he is, eyes closing as Haru makes his way down his chest just as he had, leaving open mouthed kisses and tiny licks in places that felt good for him, so should therein feel good for Rin. It must, because Rin’s body is arching into Haru’s touch — little control and less bodily restraint than Haru, a sizable ego-boost for the latter.

It’s when he reaches the waistband of Rin’s shorts that Haru starts to have his doubts — sudden swirls of unhelpful dips in confidence. Because what if he fucks this up? What if he’s actually terrible, because you can read about this shit for half a day but still not know what you’re doing? What if what’s good in theory is actually a total shitstorm in practice?

The fingers threading through the front of Haru’s hair pull him out of his thoughts, Rin pushing his dark bangs up his forehead so he can see his eyes — probably figure out what’s going on down there. And you know what? Fuck it, Haru decides. Because he’s ready to bet his life that Rin’ll have no idea if Haru knows what he's doing. All he’ll know is if it feels good or not. So why the hell is he getting all worked up?

Haru’s brows come together in determination, his confidence stitched together as he fixes his attention back to the waist of Rin’s shorts and pulls, shifting where he needs to until he’s sliding them over his feet and they’re joining his shirt on the floor. Rin’s staring down at him with vague concern when Haru repositions himself, his mouth dangerously close to where Rin’s already eagerly hard. Haru’s eyes flick up to him, his breath ghosting across him as he says: “S’okay…” and then takes the tip in his mouth.

Rin lets out a sharp gasp, and if it were anyone but Haru on the other end of it, they might think it was angry. But Haru knows him — knows that the way his eyebrows furrow together when Haru licks up the underside of his cock means it actually feels alright, he’s just startled is all. It’s enough of a confidence booster for Haru to continue, Rin hot and heavy in his mouth as he does his best to remember the things he read. Swirl your tongue. Make sure everything’s wet enough. Get your teeth out of the way. 

Rin lets out another gasp, this one more of a moan than anything, his toes curling on the bedsheets as Haru bobs his head at what he thinks it probably a good speed. And with how things are actually going unexpectedly well, the confidence to press forward isn’t hard to find. 

Haru reaches out toward the nightstand without stopping his pace, opening the drawer and grabbing blindly at things until he finds what he wants. Rin’s got his eyes on him as we works — the small plastic bottle and shiny square packets sparking his interest, even if he already seems to be pretty wholeheartedly invested in the rhythm of Haru’s mouth around him.

Haru sets them down next to him on the bed, surprised to find that his towel is off and must have been off for some time now. When did that happen? 

“Haru…” Rin speaks, but his voice is shaky and his cheeks are red and his eyes are half lidded as he looks down at him, and Haru knows from experience what that means.

So he sucks to the tip and then pulls off, relieving Rin of the constant attention in favor of leaving kisses along the base and on the insides of his thighs as he grabs the lube and clicks the lid open with his thumb. 

Reaching back and circling his entrance is a lot different with someone else in the room, he’s quick to find out. Especially when that someone else is staring, the gears turning in their head almost noticeably as he slowly starts with a finger. Heat goes straight to Haru’s face at both the sensation and the feeling of being watched. It’s like they’re right back where they were last night.

Haru shudders. It’s that pleasure-pain but not the pleasure-pain he wants. He doesn’t want it from his fingers. He wants it fr—

“Ah,” he hisses, eyes squeezing shut, and he swears he’s going to melt right through this bed if Rin doesn’t stop fucking staring at him.  

So he leans forward again, wrapping his lips around the head of Rin’s cock and swirling his tongue before taking as much as he can in his mouth without gagging. Rin throws his head back, his legs coming up to bend at the knees subconsciously, and it’s exactly what Haru wants, because not only does it obviously have Rin feeling good, it also gets him to stop staring. And now Haru can get back to work again, albeit slowly, without the added pressure of prying eyes.

Time slips in and out of balance, Rin breathing heavily and his fingers finding their way into Haru’s hair as he bobs his head between his knees. The sun has set and the oranges and reds have given way to cool blues, and Haru’s past ready.

“Rin,” he says, aware of the drool that’s made its way down his chin but too caught up to do anything about it now. 

Rin stares down at him, flushed and seeming to be about as on the brink as Haru is. And he’s just so gorgeous like that, Haru things, even if he does feel stupid for thinking it. 

He gets to his knees, his legs already wobbly as he rips the condom wrapper open and does his best to get Rin situated. And Haru can tell that Rin’s far gone, because he doesn’t even acknowledge it. No weird look, no protest, nothing. But that’s just fucking fine with Haru, because it makes it easier to move back up, their eyes meeting once again as he comes to rest in his lap like they had started. 

Rin’s staring up at him again, but this time, there’s something different in their. Lost.

“It’s okay,” Haru murmurs again, this time against Rin’s mouth as he reaches behind himself and uses his hand to line himself up.

And Rin’s just staring — staring staring staring at him until Haru presses down, and then slowly, carefully, he eases himself down onto Rin’s dick. 

They breathe out together, their foreheads resting against each other and Haru’s eyes squeezing shut because yes yes yes there’s that pleasure-pain. Right there. And more intense than he thought it could ever possibly be.

Rin grabs at his waist, nails digging into his skin, and in that moment Haru knows he has to _move_ — has to go — has to lift himself just the slightest bit before rocking himself down, the sensation making both their mouths drop open again, their respective groans dancing together in the space between them. He does it again — settles into a slow, liquid-smooth movement that he didn’t realize he was capable off, the hands on his waist running up his sides and over his shoulders and on both sides of his neck until Rin’s lips are on his again, fevered and slick and needy. 

Haru kisses him back — bares his neck and lets Rin lick up his throat again — rocks his hips and grabs onto Rin’s shoulders when Rin starts to move back.  

It’s slow at first, testing, and then it builds and builds and builds until Haru’s head is dropping down onto Rin’s shoulder, the pace quickly spiraling into something must faster than he can meet. The breath he lets out filters into a low, staggered moan, his body jerking with every thrust of Rin’s hips.

And it must not be enough for Rin, because suddenly he’s leaning forward, wrapping an arm around Haru's middle before pressing ahead until Haru’s back hits against the mattress with a thud. 

Haru lets out a huff of air, disoriented by the sudden change, and when he looks up, there’s something flashing in Rin’s eyes.

“R—…Rin—” 

The push to re-enter has Haru seeing stars, his vision going blurry at the sides for half a second before the seeping heat of pleasure starts to take over. Because Rin’s snapping his hips like he’s been human his entire life, his brows furrowing and a snarl growling forth as he leans down and nips at the base of Haru’s throat. It’s enough to have Haru’s eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head, his hands coming to grasp at the back of Rin’s head to keep him there. And it’s all just so intense and fast and wild and Haru knows that if the curling heat in the pit of his gut is any indication, it’ll be over soon, but he doesn’t want it to be. He doesn’t want it to be. He doesn’t want it to be—

Rin’s hips stutter, his body tensing and his head lifting and suddenly he’s leaning his forehead against Haru’s again, his lips parted as he struggles for breath. But he keeps going — keeps rutting against him — and Haru knows his own body enough to reach down before Rin’s done. He barely has to touch himself before he’s toppling over the edge, fingers tangled in Rin’s hair and Rin’s teeth back at the base of his neck and they ride it out together, both of them, hanging on like they’ll fall off the face of the earth if they don’t. Because it’s wave after wave after wave of hot prickly pleasure that Haru can feel down to his toes, and Rin’s right there with him.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Haru doesn’t remember falling asleep. 

 

He doesn’t remember getting under the blankets.

 

He doesn’t remember the stinging pain at the base of his throat until he stirs awake, the body that’s supposed to be behind him gone.

 

He sits up, sleep in his eyes but just enough light to see Rin’s figure stepping away from the bed.

 

Haru reaches out, a hand finding Rin’s wrist, but when Rin turns, he can’t get the words out.

 

_Come back._

 

_Don’t leave._

 

_Stay with me._

 

He can’t get them out because they’re stuck in his throat, the sight of Rin staring  down  unhappily at him scaring them away.

 

Haru swallows.

 

Rin waits, pulls his hand away, and then disappears out the door.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

He’s gone for an entire day.

An entire day.

And Haru doesn’t know what to do anymore.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

8:00pm on the dot, his clock reads. 8:00pm on the dot. Rin’s not home. Haru’s burned his mackerel. The news that’s flickering in the living room isn’t doing a very good job at lifting his spirits because nothing but bad stuff is happening around the world. It’s 8:00pm on the dot and Haru slumps onto the floor just as the local news begins to roll, the one newscaster with the fake laugh that Haru doesn’t like taking the first story of the night. 

He listens in and out, his eyelids feeling heavy as he rolls onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. 

What the hell is up with Rin? Why does he go back and forth from being affectionate and clingy to disappearing for an entire day? Is it Haru? Is it something that he never going to understand because he’s not from where Rin’s from?

Haru sighs, letting his eyes close as he tunes back in as the newscaster rambles into a new story. Maybe he’ll never know.

  _“…—aramedics arrived at Iwatobi Lighthouse just a few moments after—”_

Haru’s head snaps up, his entire body zoning in on the television and his heart sinking in his stomach. The lighthouse?

_“—makes it the first attack on the shores of Iwatobi in the least twenty years, leaving some locals to wonder if it’s safe to swim near the lighthouse after all.”_

The remote clatters off the table as Haru grabs for it, scrambling to increase the volume as the pit in his stomach spreads with every word.

_“Judging by the victim’s injuries, the rescue paramedics suspect the attack was by an adolescent, something the coast guard here says is very rare overall, and has never happened on their shores before. While the victim is said to be recovering, this event has left many of the locals in shock, as news of the shark attack reaches them in their homes.”_

The newscaster gathers his papers, nodding at the camera before it pans to another who was standing just off screen, and Haru’s already clambered up and out of the door before they can start. 

Rain beats down onto him as he sprints down the street toward the lighthouse, his heart thumping in his chest and the pit turning into a something sour and nauseating. That can’t be Rin. Rin wouldn’t attack someone. Not even if he was overwhelmingly upset. Right?

His chest is heaving for breath when the lighthouse comes into view, another local news team that Haru doesn’t recognize still wrapping up their take by the water.

Haru panics. He has to get Rin out of there. 

The rocks at the base of the lighthouse are slick with rain, Haru’s shoes slipping more than once as he climbs his way toward the center where he’s still out of view of the camera.

“Rin!” he calls, careful not to be too loud. But the rain pattering against the sea’s surface drowns him out, forcing him to call out louder this time. “Rin!”

Everything about this idea is stupid. It’s dangerous, it’s raining, and one wrong move could get Rin plastered all over the front page of the news. But he has to do it — has to get Rin out of here — has to make sure he’s—

A head slowly emerges from the dark water, Haru kneeling down towards it. “Rin. Rin, we have to go.”

But Rin won’t move, his gaze downward and sullen and—…and _guilty_ …

Haru straightens, the reaction stilling him for a moment. 

It’s the sound of voices near the shoreline that finally kick him back into action again. “Rin, let’s go. You can’t be here.” He pats the rock next to him, the water that had pooled in its dips and curves splashing out from the impact.  

Rin finally looks up at him. Uncertainty.

And Haru feels like he might just fucking break down any second. “Rin, _please._ ” 

It must reach him in his spot in the water — the fragility of Haru’s tone — because he waits a second more, and then lifts himself up onto the rock as asked. 

Haru bends down, slinging a hand around his back and under his tail and lifting with all his might. Traversing the large rocks as he carries Rin around the side of the lighthouse is tricky, his shoes slipping against their wet surface, but he makes it — they make it — and Haru uses the shadows created by the night and the rain to sneak up the walkway back to town. 

The nausea is starting to come back, Haru moving as fast as he can down the path towards his house as Rin hangs on with both arms around his neck. This is stupid. This is so fucking stupid, he didn’t even bring a blanket or anything to cover Rin’s bottom half.  

Thunder rolls deep and far off on the horizon, Rin leaning his head against Haru’s chest in what looks like an attempt to make himself small. And Haru’s back might give out at any minute but it’s okay because they’re almost there — almost to the front door — almost back inside, just a little bit farther until everything’s—

“Haru…?”

Haru freezes.

No. 

No no no no no.

“Haru what’s…going on…”

Rin bristles in his arms, a sudden reversal and his teeth glistening in the moonlight.

Haru slowly turns, pulse zeroing out. Because standing a few steps down, umbrella clutched tensely in his hand, is Makoto.

 

 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait! this is the second to last chapter! hope you enjoy the angst!
> 
> also don't forget about the  
> [Behind The Sea playlist](http://whatthebodygraspsnot.tumblr.com/behindtheseaplaylist)!

_ The nausea is starting to come back, Haru moving as fast as he can down the path towards his house as Rin hangs on with both arms around his neck. This is stupid. This is so fucking stupid, he didn’t even bring a blanket or anything to cover Rin’s bottom half.  _

_ Thunder rolls deep and far off on the horizon, Rin leaning his head against Haru’s chest in what looks like an attempt to make himself small. And Haru’s back might give out at any minute but it’s okay because they’re almost there — almost to the front door — almost back inside, just a little bit farther until everything’s— _

_ “Haru…?” _

_ Haru freezes. _

_ No.  _

_ No no no no no. _

_ “Haru what’s…going on…” _

_ Rin bristles in his arms, a sudden reversal and his teeth glistening in the moonlight. _

_ Haru slowly turns, pulse zeroing out. Because standing a few steps down, umbrella clutched tensely in his hand, is Makoto. _

* * *

  

The scene is high energy and high anxiety and Haru thinks he might throw up, both he and Makoto yelling and Rin thrashing around on the floor behind him because—

“—n’t understand how this could—”

“—an’t tell anyone or he’ll—”

“—Haru how long has this been—”

“—I don’t—I don’t kn— _Rin, calm down_ —"

—and Haru’s being attacked from both sides — both sides — Makoto concerned and frowning and yelling at him and Rin trying to get past his legs to get to Makoto and Haru’s being _attacked from both sides and—_

“STOP.” His voice is shaky but it echoes harshly against the ceiling, sharp enough to hit against Rin like it’s solely being directed at them.

Rin’s movements cut out, his struggle stopping and his shoulders tensing from the intensity of Haru’s voice. And somewhere at the back of his head, Haru _knows_ he should feel guilty about it, but right now everything is off balance and skewed. 

And Makoto is staring at him with this _look_.

Haru takes a deep breath. Tries to even out his climbing pulse. Tries to find solace in the ill-placed silence between them. Tries to just… _explain._

“I found him washed up…” he says softly, and he sure wishes his voice would stop shaking so much. “…and until I brought him home, I didn’t know what he was…” Makoto’s staring at him — staring at Rin — and Haru _knows_ he’s not going to like what he says next. “…and this was…” shaky breath… “a few months ago…”

That settles between them, thick and uncomfortable and Haru can see it working through Makoto’s brain before he opens his mouth, tone quiet in disbelief. “…a few…months ago…”

It’s not a question. It’s not really acceptance either. It’s just… _that_.

Haru swallows — for the first time in his life, he can’t read what Makoto’s thinking — what he’s going to do. It’s almost as troublesome as this situation as a whole.

“So you said…he had amnesia…” Makoto’s words come out slowly, like they’re being pieced together as they leave his mouth. 

Haru doesn’t know what to do with them when they reach him. “He was—…I didn’t want—…”

His pulse is starting to pick up again. What the fuck made him think this wasn’t going to happen some day — that this was an escapable inevitability — that he’d never have to stand here and face the long strings of lies that he branched out over the past few months?

“Makoto—”

“That was him, wasn’t it? The attack on the news.” He’s serious now, his tone leveling at a kind of sternness that Haru’s never liked, especially now that it’s directed toward Rin. 

And he can see the look of subtle judgement he casts down at Rin as his eyes leave Haru.

It hits him like a personal attack. “He’s not like that.”

Makoto’s gaze snaps back to him, unswayed. “No?”

Haru frowns. “No.”

“And what about those?”

Haru swallows as Makoto motions toward his neck — toward the red indentations bitten clear under the collar of his white shirt. He bristles. “He’s not like that,” he repeats.

“No?”

“ _No_.” And he’s snapping now, irritated and cornered and who the fuck does he—

“How is that ‘not like that’?” Makoto’s frowning again, concern his obvious motivation, but the way his words pinch makes it come out as an attack.

The tension is rising again —

“Because it’s not.”

— quickly this time —  


“He _bit_ you, Haru. Tell me how that’s not aggressive.”

— twisting tightly.

“Because it’s _not!”_

“ _How?”_

“Because it’s—” Haru’s fists clench. “—they’re from sex!”

He’s worked up. Upset. He needs to take a breath and back off.

Makoto doesn’t say anything. Haru doesn’t give him a chance. 

“He wasn’t attacking me.” He’s softer this time — more composed. Because it’s the truth. Rin didn’t bite him out of aggression. “They’re not bad. They’re not like—…”

“…like at the lighthouse?” The accusation stings. “Like when he bit _me_?”

The words getting ready to spill from Haru’s mouth get caught. Makoto’s questions are rhetorical. And they cut deeper than any indentation Rin could ever leave against his skin.

Haru steadies himself, the tightness spreading in his chest. Rin isn’t bad. This isn’t him. Haru knows him better than anyone else and _this isn’t him_. “The lighthouse…” he murmurs, unable to meet Makoto’s gaze. “He wouldn’t do this.”

Rin shifts beside him, almost as if he knows he’s being talked about. His tail scrapes against the wood flooring, but he doesn’t touch Haru — a deliberate disconnect between them. He may be distant, but he’s not what Makoto’s claiming he is — he wouldn’t _do this_. 

Makoto sighs. “Then why is he?”

“I don’t know.” Haru wants to. _God_ , does he want to. But things aren’t that easy — the sea shells lined up on his nightstand are a testament to that. He glances back up, eyes tired now, voice just as much. “Just don’t tell anyone.” It’s a request draped in resignation, and Makoto must hear it — the barely there “please…” that narrowly carries over the patter of rain against the roof — because he watches him with calculating eyes for a moment more before dropping his gaze towards where Rin is facing away from him on the floor, and then back up to Haru.

“I won’t,” he says finally, and Haru doesn’t know why that doesn’t make him feel better yet. Maybe it’s the way Makoto’s looking at him — uneasy, disenchanted, disappointed. Maybe it’s the way he says: “We should stop keeping things from each other…” because it’s both accusatory and admitting. 

And it makes Haru’s heart hurt a little — how they’ve both somehow managed to keep something a secret from their best friend — but he nods anyway. 

Makoto sighs, a long inhale thats let out slowly as he glances back down at Rin. When he kneels, Haru doesn’t expect it, just as he doesn’t expect him to hold his hand out toward the half-shark, who peers defiantly over his shoulder at it but doesn’t make eye contact.

It’s a moment where Haru’s not quite sure of the outcome. Makoto’s doing his best to make amends — to make ties. But his hand hangs stoically between them, Rin firm in his refusal. It’s not until Haru says it, soft and tired: “…Rin…”, because that’s when those red eyes flick up to him, darkened with defiance but muting when they meet stormy blue. It’s not until then that Rin glances back over his shoulder towards the offered hand, waiting for a moment of silent consideration, and then slowly places his hand palm-down against Makoto’s.

It’s a joining of opposing forces, and while the frown still hangs heavy on Rin’s face, Haru accepts it with a certain amount of relief.

“Alright…” Makoto says when Rin’s hand slides off of his own and back into his lap, and then he stands up, straightening his posture before looking back at Haru. “I’ll be at home. Let me know if you need anything.”

Haru nods, still bothered by the stoic way Makoto’s speaking. And then Makoto turns. And then he leaves. And then it’s just Haru and Rin.

Lightning flashes shadows onto the dark walls. Rolling thunder growls deeply at them as it passes over. Rin is stock still when Haru crouches down to kneel in front of him.

“That was…” He doesn’t even know where to start. “…you did that…didn’t you…?”

He knows he doesn’t want to believe it — knows that Rin’s _capable_ of attacking someone but doesn’t want to believe that he _would._

Rin’s tail moves quietly against the floor. It’s not a denial.

“Why?” 

More lightning. Rin won’t look at him. 

“Rin…” he tries again. “Why did you hurt that person?”

The pointed way with which Rin turns his face to the side shows more than Haru could guess. Frustration. Distress. _Guilt_.

“You can’t do that. You can’t attack people,” he says, tilting his head in an attempt to get that eye contact that he so dreadfully wants. But Rin won’t look at him. Won’t look at him won’t look at him won’t look at him and— “Rin.”

The collapse of Rin’s body into his arms throws Haru at first, his arms coming out to catch him out of instinct. But when he feels the sigh of defeat, Rin’s chest rising and falling dejectedly against him, it’s out of compassion that he wraps him up in an embrace.

Rain beats against the window with no end in sight, and Haru rocks them to the beat of it, his eyes closing even though his heart is aching heavily in his chest.

“You didn’t mean it,” he says, and he doesn’t particularly care if he believes himself or not right now. “You didn’t mean it. You didn’t mean it.”

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Rin stays the entire time that night.

Maybe it’s because it’s still raining.

Maybe it’s because Haru’s wrapped his body around him and refuses to let go.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

It’s not until the rain lets up that Haru forces himself to go back down to the lighthouse to clean. Something big and looming and negative in the back of his brain tells him not to bring Rin, but for whatever reason, he ignores it. It doesn’t matter because once they return to the fork in the road — the decision to either come into the lighthouse with Haru or to go to the sea — Rin picks right back up where he left off with his indecision. And it’s almost depressing, that look in his eyes, that confusion and uncertainty. But Haru can only say “You can go swim,” so many times before his sincerity starts to fade. So he leaves him standing there, halfway between the steps and the shore, to make his decision on his own.

It’s ten minutes later that Rin appears on the balcony. But even Haru can tell he’s not happy about it.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  


His back is getting better from when he pulled it. He only has to resort to the hot tub during practice now. Part of it might be because he’s actually been following Makoto’s advice and not overworking himself. Another part of it might be the fact that every time Rin's around when Haru shows some level of discomfort, Rin scoops him up and carries him wherever he needs to go — which is nice, if not startling, most times. But sometimes:

“Ah—Rin, enough.”

“Aw, look at Rin-chan! He’s so gentlemanly!”

“Rin seriously there’s people—”

“Why don’t you carry me around places like that, Rei-chan?”

“Please don’t pout, Nagisa-kun.”

And Haru’s not saying he isn’t appreciative of the support — it’s always nice to not have to use effort to walk places, he supposes — it’s just that…well…sometimes the middle of a crowded movie theater isn’t the best place to be swooped up and carried bridal-style.

But he does enjoy the closeness. And he enjoys the feeling of Rin’s arms loyally supporting him. So maybe he lets it slide — if not for the sake of being close to Rin, who is starting to get distant again, then for the sake of his back.

Yes. His back.

See, he starts wanting that contact more and more these days, where each rotation of the sun brings with it more and more of that looming negative feeling. Haru’s conscience is gearing up for something — for The Big Looming Thing to finally touch down and seep into his bones — into Rin’s bones. Because Rin’s distancing himself more and more now — waves of detachment where he becomes almost unapproachable, Haru attempting more than once with a nudge of the hand. But Rin’s not there. Not mentally. No, mentally he’s somewhere else — way far off in the distance where Haru can’t see him from the shoreline — and it makes The Big Looming Thing grow and grow until it’s an glob of heaviness nestled low in Haru’s chest.

Rin leaves when the sun plunges below the horizon, Haru drifting off into a fitful sleep beneath his sheets.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

It’s been a full day and a half. 

Haru knows he should have expected him to leave again — that his staying around after the lighthouse incident was too good to last — but all the same, he finds he has trouble carrying out his normal routine knowing Rin’s once again gone. 

More than once, he fights the urge to go down to the sea to see him — even just to catch a glimpse of his tail glistening in the yellowy oranges of the sunset — as if that’s all he’d need. As if just a glimpse would be enough and not actually just a push to wanting to see more of him — wanting to shed his clothes and wade in and swim swim swim until he found him. 

It could be like that time they were there together, fighting the waves and Rin’s arms holding him under the water and his lips parted in surprise from the brush of Haru’s for the first time. It could be just like that. 

But it wouldn’t be anymore. It wouldn’t be anymore because something’s wrong and Rin is different and it wouldn’t be anything _like_ that. And Haru knows it. So he stays onshore. Stays inside. Stays in bed. Stays tucked away even when Makoto comes for him because it’s been two and a half days since anyone has heard from him.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

When he finally comes home, Rin brings the towering waves with him, and Haru sinks straight to the bottom of him. 

He tries to maintain composure on the outside but it’s hard when he can’t stop his body from wrapping itself around him — even harder when Rin does the same and this time it doesn’t feel like a simple mimic, but rather like something Rin’s just as desperate to do.

Haru stands there and revels in the warmth and stops himself from saying things that mean too much. Because things might be close now, but Rin’s going to leave again and Haru just doesn’t want to say things that won’t matter because Rin’ll be gone soon anyway.

So he stands there and takes it in and fights back the inevitable Big Looming Thing in the back of his head.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

When Rin leaves this time, Haru figures out that swim practice is actually a good way to forget about it. He drags himself out of his room and walks quickly past the little side road to Makoto’s house, and the look of surprise on Coach Sasabe’s face when he sees him is a little hurtful. Like he can’t believe Haru’s showed up. Like it’s astonishing that Haru’s showing his face around somewhere. 

But he swims. And swims and swims. And swims until his arms and legs are sore and Coach tells him that he’s heading out but Haru can stay for as long as he wants. 

Haru stays well past the moonrise, wondering if Rin can see it too.

When he gets home some unknown amount of time later, Makoto’s sitting in his living room, head tilted back against the wall and eyes closed in sleep. Haru blinks — doesn’t really need to push down any feelings because he doesn’t have any right now — toes his shoes off and then walks through the living room and towards the hallways until he hears it.

“Haru…” Makoto’s voice is tired, groggy from sleep, and Haru doesn’t even need to turn around to know the look he’s giving him. “It’s so late.”

Haru stares down the dark hallway, his conscience not letting him keep walking and ignore his friend.

“I haven’t heard from you in two weeks. Where’ve you been?”

Those feelings that he needs to push down are starting to manifest now — heavy and worn out. “Here…” It’s not a lie. Makoto probably knew the answer already. 

There’s some movement behind Haru, then: “Where’s Rin?”

The heaviness in Haru’s chest thickens. His gaze drops. “Not here.”

The unhurried movement comes to rest behind him, not intimidating but very present. “And that’s why you’ve been shutting yourself away from everyone?”

Haru lets that question rest, perhaps the slightest bit ashamed of his actions. But Makoto doesn’t _get_ it — doesn’t _understand_ what Rin means to him.

“Where is he? Do you know?”

Haru turns halfway, slumping against the wall and eyes tired. “Ocean.”

Makoto waits a beat, probably connecting some dots by himself in his head. Then, “Does he normally do that?”

“Has been.”

“How long?”

It’s enough to light a faint spark of anger in Haru’s chest, his brows coming together as he finally looks at Makoto. “Why does it matter.”

Makoto must hear the defeat with which he says it rather than asks it, because he takes a calming breath and then lets his head tilt to the side a bit, his tone coming out light but knowing. “Because it’s making you upset enough that you’re shutting yourself away from everyone.”

Haru’s frown doesn’t falter as he keeps his stare with Makoto, then slowly lets it drop back in front of him.

Silence floats between them, Haru feeling, Makoto waiting. 

It’s like talking about it will make it worse, make it _right there in front of him_. But Makoto’s here and the only one in the world who can help him right now. So.

“He leaves for days,” he says quietly towards the floor. “Longer each time.”

The offer of information prompts a nod from Makoto, who continues to watch from his spot in front of him. “And…he always goes to the sea?”

Haru nods.

“How do you know?”

Smooth, shiny black sides come to mind. “Sometimes he brings back seashells.”

“I see.” More contemplation. “Why do you think he goes there?”

“It’s where I found him.”

Those dots are connecting in Makoto’s head again it seems, his words stringing in tandem as he pieces them together. “So…he’s going back to where he’s from.”

Waves wash over Haru’s mind as he nods. It makes sense that he’d go back there every once in a while, but for days at a time? And with this kind of weird energy between them?

Makoto’s voice sifts into his thoughts, supposing but pointed. “Do you think he’s frustrated and having a hard time figuring out if he wants to be with you or where he’s from? That would explain him lashing out and attacking someone at the lighthouse.”

Haru swallows, the proposition finally being pulled from the back of his mind and into the forefront where he’s been avoiding it. And maybe he’s kind of always known that — known it ever since Rin started acting strangely when given the choice between swimming or coming up in the lighthouse with Haru. Maybe he’s always known it but was too selfish and stubborn and _scared_ to let it come to light. And maybe it feels like the wind is being knocked out of him right where he stands.

“I imagine it’d probably be pretty hard to decide between the two,” Makoto’s voice still goes in and out, “Because one place is probably where part of him wants to be because it’s his home, but the other place is where the other part of him wants because the person there is important to him.”

It’s just vague enough that Haru has to look up at him. 

And Makoto smiles shortly, worn but honest. “He’s trying to pick between two things that he loves and needs.”

Haru’s heart hurts from that, his frown returning because god _damn_ it, Makoto can always read him like a book. And this doesn’t make things any better because maybe Haru feels the same way as Rin but— but he can’t just keep him from the sea forever and—

“Haru, what are you thinking?” There’s clear concern in Makoto’s tone now. Apprehension.

“Nothing.”

“Are you sure? Because you look like you’re making plans for things that shouldn’t have plans yet.”

But Haru’s chest is just getting so fucking tight. And it’s stupid because he knew this was coming, that The Big Looming Thing was just around the corner, but somehow he doesn’t feel as prepared as he probably should be.

“Haru—”

“I’m fine,” he says, feigning composure, and for one terrifying moment, he even tricks himself into believing it’s true. “Thank you, Makoto.”

His friend watches him for a moment more, not completely convinced, but then he nods, letting his hands slip into his pockets with a yawn. “Try not to stay boxed up in here anymore.”

“‘kay."

“Let’s go to lunch tomorrow.”

“‘kay.”

“I’ll text you a time in the morning.”

Haru nods, “‘kay,” but his attention is lightyears away.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

He’s gone to lunch for about an hour, in the habit of leaving his door unlocked ever since Rin started coming and going. 

He’s gone to lunch for about an hour and when he comes back, there’s a new seashell on his nightstand but no sign of anything else.

He’s gone to lunch for about an hour and Haru wants to scream.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Rin comes back two days later, slinking through the front door as the sun is cresting over the horizon. Haru doesn’t hear him over the sound of water running in the sink until he feels the warmth come up from behind him, Rin’s body pressing along his back and his nose coming down to nuzzle against the sensitive skin below Haru’s earlobe.

It’s an electric shock and a surge of relief all in one, Haru’s body stilling before sinking back into the touch, his hands finding purchase on the edge of the kitchen counter in front of him. 

“Hi,” he just barely mumbles, and immediately feels stupid for it.

But Rin answers him with a short breath out through his nose, pressing his lips over Haru’s skin, and it’s nice and all but it’s light — too light — and Haru needs Rin to _be here_ when he’s here, so he leans further into it so there’s more pressure — more of a presence.

The running water swirls around the sink and down the drain, Haru’s hands lifting from the counter’s edge to pull Rin’s arms until they’re snugly around him. And it’s all very close and comfortable and everything Haru used to think he didn’t want. 

It’s just a shame that now is when he realizes just how much he actually does.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

The message is a bit jarring when Haru gets it, alone again, his blankets pulled up to his chin.

_‘i let ONE dirty magazine slip and you get a new babysitter - i understand how it is’_

Haru ignores it. Tosses his phone back on the nightstand and skids one of the many seashells off the side on accident.

A half an hour passes before his phone buzzes again.

_‘just saying its been a while. and wondering what the deal was i guess.’_

It’s nice — a lot nicer than Sousuke’s ever really been. More considerate. Makoto must’ve mentioned how shitty Haru’s been doing lately.

It deserves a response, he supposes.

**‘hes fine now. doesnt need anyone to watch him.’**

It’s a lie. It’s such a lie that Haru almost feels guilty for sending it. But what is he supposed to say? That lately Rin’s gone more than he is around? That Haru hasn’t been dropping him off before practice because he keeps leaving an empty house with shrinking hope and the front door unlocked?

_‘k’_

_‘still here tho if that changes’_

Haru reads over the messages with heavy eyelids. And if he didn’t know better, he might think that they sound almost…lonely. Like maybe Sousuke is asking about Rin just as much for himself as he is for Haru.

The seashell on the floor stares back up at him, and Haru lets out a shallow sigh.

**‘i’ll let u kno’**

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

He knows what he has to do. Knows that it’s not fair to keep Rin coming back for Haru’s own sake. Knows that the frustration swirling around Rin isn’t going to pan out if Haru’s there stirring it all up again with needy touches and lowered eyes. So when Rin comes home two nights later, Haru pulls himself out of bed — pulls Rin back through the front door — pulls him gently back toward where he’s just come from, the waves calm against the shore.

His heart is the heaviest it’s ever been. Because Rin doesn’t understand — isn’t in Haru’s head — doesn’t see how this, both of them here on the shoreline and Haru’s eyes not quite reaching as he pulls away — doesn’t see how this is—…

“Stay here…” Haru murmurs, voice low but steady. “This is where you need to be.”

Rin stares at him darkly. Not understanding. Brow furrowing. Haru takes a step back and he panics, lurching forward with his hand out but—

“Rin.” He’s not good with words. He’s never been. “Stay here.” Rin’s breathing is starting to quicken. But Haru can’t feel anything at all — everything shutting down. And when Rin takes another step forward Haru puts his hand out, his palm coming to rest on his chest. He presses forward to lean their foreheads together, voice just over a whisper as he says it: “Don’t follow me…” then straightens, the warmth of Rin’s skin evaporating in the sea breeze, “…don’t come back.”

The rest drags on in time like it might not have even happened at all.

The waves washing up onto shore.

The way Rin’s eyes watch after him — broken and dark and glossy in the moonlight.

The inevitable _pull_ on Haru’s heart that tightens with every step he takes closer to the path back to town.

Because this is…

That’s it.

That’s…that’s _it._

Haru locks his front door when he closes it, climbs back into bed, and stays there until sleep comes.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

The blue numbers on his clock read 3:29 when he wakes up to it — the strange noise coming from outside. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to ignore it but it keeps up — the sound of something thudding and scraping against wood. 

He swings his feet over the edge of his bed with a huff, wondering why the world can’t just let him be depressed in peace. But with each second he advances on the front door, the sound gets louder — frantic — clawing almost. And Haru’s heart is in the pit of his stomach because he already knows what it is before he unlocks the door and swings it open and—

“Rin—”

He’s collapsed at the foot of his doorstep, upset and tired and…and _changed_.

“Rin, why,” Haru’s tone is defeated as he quickly crouches to help drag the mershark inside. Because when did he transform? How long has he been out here? Did anyone see him? “You were supposed to st—”

Haru’s cut off by Rin’s movement forward, his arms clutching around him and his head burying in his chest like it’s been too long for him to bear.

And Haru just…

He…

“You were supposed to stay away…” he mumbles, quiet now as he wraps an arm around Rin’s torso, his other hand reaching up to slowly stroke through his hair. 

And just like that, Rin is back in his life again.

Or more like…he never really left when he was supposed to in the first place.

And Haru doesn’t know if that makes it easier or harder when he wakes up and Rin’s gone again.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

It’s clear Rin can’t stay away on his own. It’s clear in the way that he comes back after three more nights, Haru stirring awake to the feeling of pressure on his chest and lower half, only to be met with tired eyes staring back at him, Rin’s chin resting on the tops of his hands as they lay on Haru’s chest. His tail flicks and silver glints in the moonlight — pretty and irresistible and Haru knows he can’t stay away on his own either.

So he lets Rin settle in. Runs his fingers through that mesmerizingly satiny red hair. Waits until Rin’s eyes shut and expression relaxes to reach over to the nightstand and grab his phone.

The entirety of Rin’s body fits into the shot, the sinewy gleam of his tail reflecting off the moonbeams. And as Haru hesitates, his thumb hovering over the button to take the picture, the voices in his head tell him this is a bad idea. But he stifles them down and takes the picture anyway.

Because Rin can’t stay away on his own. 

And Haru can’t stay away on his own.

Neither of them can stay away on their own, and Haru can’t imagine never being able to see Rin’s face again.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

He’s forced out into social interaction by Makoto. It’s just lunch, so it’s okay, but Haru isn’t exactly having a stellar time.

“I think they’re really starting to like me! I’m like a beluga-whisperer!”

Nagisa’s talking but Haru’s not really invested, picking at his bowl of mackerel and rice and trying to ignore how Makoto glances at him every five minutes like he’s checking up on him.

“And what’s really awesome is they said if I did a good job with the belugas, that’d I’d get a chance at feeding the sharks before closing! Oh, that reminds me,” Nagisa breaks off, “Did you guys hear that there’s been another shark attack?”

“Really?” Rei says, but Haru can’t hear it over the bottoming out of his own heart.

And when Nagisa says it, voice uncharacteristically downtrodden — “Yeah. They said the person died this time. Can you believe it?” — Haru checks out completely, his mind racing and a pit forming in his stomach and when he looks up, Makoto’s looking at him, brows furrowed knowingly.

Nagisa continues none the less, his voice sounding miles away. “They said it was weird because the bites were so small again, like a baby shark or something.” 

“Well that’s impractical,” Rei weighs in, and for once it seems to be enough to sway Nagisa’s interest.

But it doesn’t matter to Haru, because his thoughts are far gone with _RinRinRinRinRin_. 

He has to do it. 

And he has to do it soon.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

There’s time and space to plan, Rei’s old laptop casting bluish light against his face as he sits there, clicking link after link after link and picking up his phone and doing what he hates most. 

But he has to do it.

Things are too out of control.

He has to do it.

He doesn’t want to but he starts making the preparations, getting everything ready and there’s time and space because Rin hasn’t been home for four days now. He does it all so quickly that he knows Makoto’s going to have some strong opinions, but he needs to tell him — needs to do this.

He doesn’t start the conversation off very well.

“Hang on, Haru. I don’t understand what you’re saying.” Makoto’s frowning and Haru is pacing and he feels like he hasn’t really ever been in constant motion like this out of the water in a long time but— “What happened with the attack isn’t your fault. Why are you making it sound like it’s your fault?”

“Because I’m confusing him,” Haru continues, “I’m confusing him with choices and he shouldn’t have to—”

“—Haru—”

“—between two things because if I’m still here then he’ll want to keep coming back but it’s—”

“— _Haru_ —”

“—fault so I’m—I have to—”

“— _Haru_ _!_ What the hell are you saying?”

“I’m moving.”

The air between them stills in the silence, Makoto’s near-anger dissolving into something confused and disbelieving because… “You’re…what…?”

Haru stills his pace, pulse quick but mind made up. “I’m moving away.”

It’s like the words reach Makoto but refuse to stick, his eyes narrowing before: “You can’t just—…” He steadies himself, evens out his expression. “Doesn’t that seem like an overreaction?”

Haru wishes he could see it that way, but that’s impossible now. “Bad things are happening.”

“Okay,” Makoto’s actively piecing together his sentence as the words come to mind now, “Okay so, instead of moving, why doesn’t Rin jus—”

“It doesn’t work,” Haru interrupts before he can finish. “I already tried.”

Makoto shakes his head, searching the space around him for an answer. “But you can’t just…”

The air has grown thick with tension, and Haru can feel himself gearing up again already. “I have a move-in date.”

“When? Where are you even going?”

“Immediate opening at an apartment.” He tries to stay calm. “Two days from now.”

_“Two days?_ Haru, do you even get how rushed this is?” 

Makoto’s temper is rising now, Haru’s following suit. “I have to. Rin—”

“ _Rin?_ How do you think he’ll react to you just leaving?”

“He shouldn’t have to choose.”

“You’re making the choice for him!”

“I have to!”

“You’re _abandoning him_!”

“I’M NOT ABANDONING HIM!” Haru’s throat stings as his voice raises, higher and louder than he’s ever heard himself before. But he can’t control it — can’t control the burning ache in his chest and the wetness of his eyes because — “ _He’s_ the one who keeps leaving _me_! He’s the one who’s been disappearing! And one of these days he’s not gonna come back and he’s—…he’s gonna _leave_ …” Haru’s voice breaks — vulnerable. “…he’s gonna leave for good…”

Makoto watches silently, unmoving. And for one frightening moment, Haru wonders if it’s not only Rin he’s just lost. But then Makoto lets out a heavy breath, his gaze dropping to the floor. “So you’re leaving him before he can leave you.” He doesn’t get a response. Haru’s not sure he could muster one up now even if he wanted to. “Well… If you really think this will fix everything.”

It hurts, the way he won’t look at Haru. This must be what it’s felt like for him all these years. But… “I do.”

“And you won’t at least go home and think on it.” It’s not a question. Or a suggestion. Because Makoto probably already knows the answer.

“I don’t need to.” Haru says. 

And with that, Makoto shakes his head. Defeated disbelief. “Okay.”

And it hurts. It hurts a lot. But Haru has to do it.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

That night, he has everything he needs packed, even if that doesn’t add up to a lot.

See, this house itself is his grandmother’s, and will thankfully stay that way even after he’s moved, so there’s no need to pack every single item he owns. He finds, in fact, that everything he’s bringing with him only ends up filling a suitcase and a few boxes, his future roommate informing him that he’d already bought all the apartment’s necessities when he moved in a year and a half ago. That being said, much of the house stays relatively the same — except for a few things, that is. His books. A few swim team photos. The seashells on his nightstand…

Haru stares down at them, illuminated in warmth by his desk lamp. 

Grey. 

White. 

Black. 

The first one Rin had given him — the black one — he picks that one up, letting it lay flat in his palm and remembering the feeling of the waves around him that day — Rin’s arms around him that day. It was the first of many, each different in size and shape and color but the same in meaning every time they were left. Rin was thinking about him, out there beneath the water, curled up in whatever frustrations and thoughts were plaguing him as he sank lower and lower. He was thinking of _Haru_. 

The soft patter of rain begins against the window.

Haru slides the rest of the seashells off his nightstand and into his garbage can with a clatter and then stands, dropping the black one into the front pocket of his jeans before heading down the hallway.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

He waits an extra day to move.

Just in case Rin comes back.

Because that way he can say goodbye and it wouldn’t _completely_ be like he was leaving without a word.

He waits an extra day. Just in case.

Rin doesn’t come back.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

The farewell is more than Haru wanted. Apparently Makoto can’t leave well enough alone and told everyone he was leaving, hence everyone gathered at the train station when he gets there.

Nagisa’s positive but everyone can see the tears welling up in his eyes as he glues himself to Haru, his hug just this side of painful but all the more true. “Makoto says it’s only an hour away, so we’ll come visit you all the time!”

Haru hugs him back, his hands coming up to rest against his shoulder blades stiffly. “Okay.”

It’s a nice thought, and to be honest, it sort of eases the looming loneliness that Haru knows is coming.

Even Rei is affectionate.

“My hope is that you find what you’re searching for through this transition, Haruka-senpai.”

When he and Nagisa step back, Rei placing a comforting hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder, a sour feeling begins to rise in Haru’s stomach. Because Makoto’s still in the back of the group, waiting to be the last one. 

“Hey,” Sousuke’s voice interrupts, and when Haru glances over at him, he nods, composed as always. “Keep in touch.”

Haru nods back. “Yeah.”

And then Makoto’s walking up to him, his expression gravely calculated into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Nagisa and Rei are having their own conversation but Haru tunes it out because suddenly, he’s very fixated on what Makoto’s going to say.

But… “Safe travels…” is all it is, low and purposefully level. And when the dinging of the approaching train filters in, the metal cars passing behind Haru, the glossiness of his eyes are unmistakable. “See you soon.”

Haru swallows. Nods. Maybe hangs onto the hug a little longer than he needs to because leaving with a rift between them like this feels wrong. But there’s no time to fix it. No time to do anything. Because the train is coming to a screeching stop behind him and then the doors are opening. 

“Bye, Haru-chan!” Nagisa calls out when Haru turns. 

And he waits a beat — frightening indecision — and then steps into the car.

The doors close behind him, and when Haru looks out the window, Nagisa and Rin are waving, but Makoto’s head is lowered, Sousuke close and a comforting arm around his waist.

Haru turns back, his heart hurting in more ways than he ever thought it could as he puts a hand in his front pocket and worries at the black seashell waiting there.

He has to do it.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

His roommate isn’t home when he gets there. He’s startlingly alone. And for once in his life, he doesn’t like it.

Haru unrolls his futon and sinks into it, willing himself to go to sleep even though the sun is still making its ascent into the clouds.

When he sleeps, he dreams of red eyes. Red eyes and red hair and a silver sheen.

He dreams of Rin coming home to an empty house, confused and hurt and angry.

He dreams of Rin curling up on the floor and waiting.

He dreams of Rin waiting for Haru to come home.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Thank you to everyone screaming at me in the comments! I appreciate you!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: this chapter contains themes of depression

When Haru wakes up, his back hurts almost as much as his chest, tired eyes scanning the blank wall in front of him in an attempt to figure out where he is. It’s not until he hears the voice behind him that he makes the connection.

“There you are! I was wondering if you were gonna get here while I was gone!”

Haru sits up with a groan, wondering fleetingly if his hair is standing on end from his weird sleeping position. What a great first impression that would be. Not that he cares, his gaze swinging over to the guy standing in the doorway, his smile big and welcoming as it stretches across his face.

“The name’s Tatsu. Good to finally meet you, man!”

Haru blinks. Tatsu has…a lot of energy.

“Uh…Haru,” he offers, voice scratchy from poorly-timed depression-sleep.

“Cool! Hey listen, I hope it’s not too forward but I went out and got us take-out for dinner since you just moved in and everything.” The full white plastic bag in Tatsu’s hand makes sense now as he sets it down on the table with a thud. “Figured there wouldn’t be time to cook with all the unpacking and all that.”

Haru watches as his roommate starts pulling container after container of food out of the bag, the smile not once leaving his face. He pulls the black snapback hat from his head, running a hand through the top of his hair as it falls in his eyes, the almost-shaved sides a stark contrast now that his hat is off.

“Hey, you good with pork tonkatsu? I just kinda guessed what you’d like from the one time we talked on the phone.”

Haru blinks again, still trying to process. “Wh—…” This Tatsu guy certainly didn’t have this amount of energy during said phone call. “Um…sure.” He takes the carryout carton and pair of chopsticks as they’re handed to him. “…thanks.”

“No problem!”

This is definitely going to take some getting used to.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Haru unpacks his things with as little conversation as possible, the new environment enough of a distraction for a little while, but only until he’s finished and sitting and is presented with nothing left to distract him.

Because that’s when his brain starts. That’s when red eyes flash back into his memory and he reaches into his front pocket and runs his pointer finger along the smooth edge of the black seashell waiting there for him.

But he only does it for a second. Only lets himself feel sorry for himself for a second because this is what needed to happen. Rin needs to be where he belongs — shouldn’t have to decide between the sea and Haru — even if it means Haru’s left with nothing. He only lets himself feel sorry for himself for a second before pulling his hand back out of his pocket and standing, grabbing his key from the table as he walks towards the door.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

He didn’t necessarily invite Tatsu out with him. He technically didn’t even answer when Tatsu had asked where he was going and if he could come along. So in the grand scheme of things, having his new roommate here, jabbering on about the city and every building they pass, isn’t really his fault.

“That’s the university I went to!”

Haru drags his attention to the large building down the street, its windows lit against the darkness and blending the building into the brilliant cityscape all around it.

“I just graduated this year! The apartment was super close and they don’t have dorms so it was a good fit!”

Haru nods, taking in not necessarily what the impassioned brunet is saying next to him, but more-so the rest of the buildings as they pass them. It’s nothing like Iwatobi. The structures are all sleek and lit and flashy, cornered by groups of people and cars that whisk by like they aren’t concerned about accidental manslaughter. 

It’s…distancing. Haru thinks maybe he’s the only one who isn’t getting that “exciting city feeling”. Then again…extenuating circumstances. 

“…—this way, it goes to the shopping district.” Oh, Tatsu’s talking again. “Or if you go _this_ way _,_ it goes to the seaside.”

Haru immediately tunes in, his head swiveling on his shoulders, “Seaside?”

Tatsu seems taken aback by the instant switch, but then smiles, his eyes squinting cheerily. “Yeah. There’s a beach and a volleyball court and a li—whoa! You really wanna go down there? But it’s nighttime!”

It’s a valid argument but Haru doesn’t address it, already halfway down the mentioned path and eyes trained for the familiar sight. It’s his nose that picks it up first — the telltale smell of the sea — salty and fishy and welcoming, to be honest. Haru feels the rush of emotions before his feet even hit the sand, and he has no idea how fast he was even moving until he hears Tatsu’s footsteps come up behind him, the amusement still gracing his voice even through heavy breath.

“Whoa man, you _booked_ it. I had no idea you could move that fast.”

But Haru’s still moving, slipping his shoes and socks off and wading into the water as far as his rolled up pants will allow. It’s a little chilly, but the wash of the waves over his skin make it all the more worthwhile.

Haru closes his eyes. Lets the sea-breeze ghost over him. Finds himself toying with the seashell in his pocket even though he had just told himself not too long ago that he wasn’t going to do that anymore tonight.

But it’s worth it, because even if it’s just for a second, it feels like he’s back in Iwatobi — back at his lighthouse — and any second Hibiki’s going to fly down and shriek at him and then Rin will sw—

…Haru opens his eyes. Stops himself. Feels the water against his skin for a moment more and then wades back onto dry land.

No more thinking about Rin tonight.

Tatsu’s waiting for him, higher up on the shore and face lit up by his phone as he taps away on it before noticing Haru’s return. “Ah, you cool?” he asks, his screen darkening as he slips it back into his back pocket. “You totally had a moment there, dude.”

Haru nods, not sure himself but not exactly ready to be known as The Weird Roommate just yet.

He takes a few more steps and then Tatsu smiles experimentally, “You’re good though?”

“Yeah.”

But his feet are still damp and his chest hurts and Haru knows he’s not going to be able to stop thinking about Rin tonight no matter how hard he tries.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Sleeping is the worst. His impromptu nap shattered through his already shaky sleep schedule, so now he just lies here, blanket up to his chest as he stares up at the ceiling and listens to Tatsu’s muffled snoring from the other room.

He wonders if Rin’s gone back to the house yet and realized he’s not there anymore.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Money is a thing. Haru kind of needs money to pay rent and eat and stuff.

He gets a job at the city aquarium, but he mostly thinks they gave it to him because they felt bad for him — knew he wasn’t really _job_ material. He stands at the jellyfish exhibit and checks tickets because it’s a “special attraction” even though he doesn’t know what makes it so special.

Nagisa and Rei would be proud of him, he guesses. He’s technically now in the same line of business as they are, even if he’s at grunt level compared to the Dream Team. Nine times out of ten he doesn’t even address the aquarium-goers when they show him their ticket. He just does this quick check-nod combo and they keep walking. It works for him because he doesn’t feel much like talking these days (not that he ever has in the first place). But standing so much kind of hurts his feet. And he forgets about not locking his knees sometimes and that makes him dizzy. To reiterate, he’s just not really job material unless it involves staying somewhere on his own with zero human interaction. Like…a lighthouse attendant for example.

On his break, Haru avoids the shark exhibit and sits by the small tank on the side that has lesser fish in it. He watches them school together and then avoids the shark exhibit and goes back to his post. When he’s done for the day, he clocks out and nods to the people trying to be work-friends for some ungodly reason, then he avoids the shark exhibit and goes home.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Sleep is a weird thing. He either sleeps all day when he can, or he can’t sleep to save his life. Tatsu butts in on it only once, jokingly of course. Haru doesn’t have the strength to offer any deadpan snark. 

“Homesick?” Tatsu asks, his smile still there, but friendly now — sympathetic.

Haru stares out the window, the rain that’s pouring down outside not enough to serve as a proper distraction. “M’fine,” he mumbles, because he’s lived here long enough now to know that this guy will keep asking until he answers.

He’s not fine though. Haru knows that. Tatsu knows it. Makoto knows it when he video-calls him on his phone that night. He’s all smiles but the worry is obvious in his eyes — obvious in the way it laces his voice with every word he says. _“How’s the bus system there?” “Have you been eating?” “When are you off of work on Saturday? We’d like to come up and visit you.”_

Haru rattles off answers on autopilot, concerned when even the prospect of seeing Makoto isn’t enough to lift his spirits.

When they get there — Makoto and Nagisa and Rei and Sousuke — Haru does his best to not show how shitty he feels. How completely drained he is. He does his best but he thinks they can tell anyway. Makoto can, at least.

He sort of corners Haru off to the side while everyone else is in the front room, Nagisa and Tatsu unsurprisingly getting on like a house on fire while Rei and Sousuke share a weary glance.

“How are you _really?”_ Makoto’s tone is serious and his look is serious and Haru just kind of wants to go to sleep.

“Tired,” he says. And Makoto doesn’t seem to like that answer.

“What are you doing for fun? Is there anywhere around here to swim?”

Haru thinks briefly, the buildings downtown flitting past his mind before coming up with no results.

“I could call around and find a place for you if you want.” 

It’s a nice offer. A very Makoto-offer. 

Haru shrugs.

There’s an outburst in the front room and Makoto glances over with surprise while Haru stays hazily unaffected. When he turns back, he sighs, seemingly taking in Haru’s appearance before pulling him in for a hug.

“We miss you…” he admits quietly, his chin resting on the top of Haru’s head. “A lot.”

Haru lets him. Waits. Then… “…Makoto…”

“Hm…?”

“Has he…” his throat is dry. “Have you seen him…? Around the house or anything…?”

For a good while, he doesn’t think Makoto’s going to answer him, the arms around him staying but with a touch of hesitation. Then the chin disappears from the top of Haru’s head. “No…” …and… “…sorry…”

Haru lets that sink in. Doesn’t necessarily know if that’s a good or bad thing right now. Can’t really make much sense of things with this haze over his brain. “…‘kay…” he says.

He’ll think about it later.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

‘Later’ comes and Haru still can’t decide if it’s good or bad that Rin hasn’t been around the house. It could be good because it means he moved on, or it could be bad because it means he’s already been there and realized Haru left him and—

Wait. 

No.

Haru didn’t leave him. Haru left the situation so Rin could be happy. This isn’t his fault.

So why does it feel more and more like it is?

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Haru’s almost positive Tatsu mentioned he was having a party at least once before this. He doesn’t quite remember it, but Tatsu doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to just throw wild parties on a whim when he’s got a roommate to take into account. Either way, the music from said party is filtering into his room through the empty space between his door and the floorboards, the voices just barely distinguishable over it.

Haru pulls his blanket up and over his head, hiding beneath it with his phone.

_‘it sounds fun. you should check it out ^_^’_ texts Makoto, who predictably must see this as an opportunity for Haru to not feel like shit. 

Haru, on the other hand, is not immediately swayed.

**‘no’**

_‘it’d be fun!’_

**‘its loud’**

_‘just a little while then?’_

**‘i dont know them’**

_‘make new friends :)’_

Haru sighs. It’s so like Makoto to still manage to fill his nagging mother position from miles away.

Fine. If that’s what it’ll take to get him off his back.

**‘fine but its your fault when i hate it’**

_‘let me know how it goes~ ^_^’_

In retrospect, the music isn’t actually that loud once he opens the door and makes his way down the hallway. The people in the front room are actually pretty calm, sitting and standing around with their drinks in their hands and laughing at jokes Haru doesn’t care to be in on. It’s not _so_ bad, but he still doesn’t want to be out here.

He seems to fly mostly under the radar as he walks to the refrigerator, pulling out the water jug and setting it on the counter as he reaches up to get a glass. It’s when he finds his particular dolphin-print glass that he feels the presence behind him.

“Haru — there you are! I thought you’d never come outta there!” It’s Tatsu, backwards hat in place and voice not at all struggling to be heard over whatever hip hop is playing over the speakers.

“Water,” Haru explains, and he can’t exactly say the same for _his_ voice.

Tatsu claps him on the shoulder — unexpected contact that has Haru’s hackles rise. They both stare down at the water that has sloshed out onto the counter because of it.

“Ah. Hey, don’t worry about it, man. Already had more than a few spills tonight and they weren’t exactly water, you feel me?”

Haru blinks. Takes a sip of what _did_ land in his cup. Swallows and then turns. “Alright—”

“Whoa whoa!” (He should’ve known leaving wasn’t going to be so easy.) “Why don’t you stay and hang? 

The arm slung around Haru’s shoulder isn’t exactly appreciated, but he’s sure if Tatsu hadn’t had whatever is in the red cup he’s holding, he would’ve gotten the picture and let go. 

Regardless. “Not really a party person.”

“No? Aw come on, it’s pretty chill. See?” He directs their position toward the room of people before them, each person in their own conversation that Haru would probably never be able to easily join. Tatsu must not see it that way, though. “Yeah? See any girls you like?”

“I don’t like girls,” Haru deadpans.

It’s not even a bump in the road. “Oh! Okay well that’s no problem — got plenty’a dudes here too.”

Haru resists the urge to sigh heavily through his nose. Makoto is going to feel his wrath for suggesting this. “Not interested.”

“Harsh,” Tatsu says through a chuckle, his head shaking as he claps Haru on the arm and then sets him free. “Well, the invitation’s always open, man. It’s your place too!”

And with that, Haru nods, takes the remains of his water glass, and squirrels himself away in his room again.

_‘how’d it go? :D’_

**‘i hate you’**

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

The world must be in on one big joke to make Haru’s life as miserable as possible, because they change his spot at the aquarium. Away from the jellyfish. Past the stingrays. 

The shark exhibit. They put him in the shark exhibit.

Haru fogs over and checks tickets without seeing them and wonders if it’d be acceptable to quit his job after a month. Because the sharks — their tails gleam in the artificial light and they’re constantly moving — present — a constant reminder and Haru doesn’t really think that shutting down is the best way to react but his body sure does. So he stands there. And checks without seeing. And moves on autopilot because if he looks in the shark tank he’s afraid of what he might see.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Haru goes down to the sea and strips to his swim leggings and dives in against the current, the lighthouse’s beam passing over him every now and again as he swims and swims and swims. He swims even though it’s dark — even though his emotions are firing off in all different directions. He swims and swims and swims and wonders what it’d be like to just sink to the very bottom and never come up again.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Things are in bad shape. Haru is in bad shape. Tatsu sticks his head past his bedroom door and speaks very quietly. Very considerately.

“Can I get something for you…? Or like…do something…?”

Haru pretends like he’s asleep but they both know he’s not.

A moment passes. 

“Okay, I’ll leave you alone. But I’m just in my room if you need to talk, man.”

The door closes.

Haru feels guilty.

He runs his fingers against the sides of the small black seashell in his hand and wishes Rin was here.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

He misses a day of work. Then he feels guilty that he’s missing a day of work. He grits his teeth and calls them late and apologizes and lies about why he can’t come in and it’s probably what allows him to keep his job when it comes right down to it.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

The sun is up when he stirs underneath his blanket, the hushed frantic whispering near the door drawing him to open his eyes. That, and the sudden light weight on his thigh, then his lap.

“ _Psst! Stupid thing, get back here!”_

It’s Tatsu who’s scream-whispering, and when Haru lifts his head, he’s met with two silver eyes, one black nose, and a quirked tail.

“Cat…” Haru mumbles, trying to connect the dots and figure out why there’s currently a black cat watching him on his lap.

Tatsu swears from his spot on the floor, half through the door and half out. “Sorry! Sorry, Haru. She was supposed to be a surprise.”

Haru blinks. The cat blinks. “Surprise…” he repeats in a daze.

Tatsu chuckles sheepishly, “Uh, yeah. I found her in the alley behind the apartment complex and thought she needed a home. It’s okay with you, right?”

The cat’s tail twitches. And how can Haru really say no at this point? He closes his eyes. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

This must be exactly what Tatsu wants to hear because he scrambles up from his crawl and bounds down the hallway. “Sweet! I’ll go get her some food then!”

But Haru is tired. And Haru is not in good shape. So Haru puts his head back down and closes his eyes, falling back asleep with the newly added weight in his lap.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Sousuke bullies Haru into video-chatting with Makoto through a series of texts.

_‘lets go nanase’_ and _‘dont be a dick - he misses the shit out of you’_ and _‘one call and then ill leave you alone’_

Haru makes the call from the kitchen, giving off the illusion that he’s been outside of his room for more than just work and a late-night swim lately.

_“I did my first full check-up by myself today,”_ Makoto says with a proud smile, still in his medical scrubs as he talks into the webcam. _“It went really well too. The girl was around our age so I thought it might’ve been a little awkward. But apparently she didn’t feel uncomfortable.”_

Haru can hear Sousuke mumble something suggestively inappropriate off-camera — something Makoto blushes at and sends him a stern look for. 

“That’s good, Makoto,” Haru says, and he’s feeling okay enough today to even offer his own tiny version of a proud smile. “Good job.”

_“Thanks!”_ Makoto grins, and looks to be about ready to launch into another conversation until there’s a flash of black and then a sudden weight on Haru’s shoulder. _“Oh! When did you get a cat, Haru?”_

The excitement in his voice probably resembles what Haru should’ve done when the cat had came into his life a few days ago. But Haru just blinks tiredly as she effortlessly walks her way across his back and onto the other shoulder. “Tatsu.” He says cryptically.

But Makoto’s an expert. _“Did he adopt it? Or is it a stray? What’s its name?”_

The fascination that cats never fail to bring Makoto will always be a mystery to Haru, but he answers anyway, tilting his head away as she rubs the side of her face on his cheek. “Saba.”

There’s a pause. Then Sousuke’s voice off-camera again. _“Did he seriously just say he named that thing Saba?”_

Haru ignores it, as does Makoto. _“Saba! That’s so like you, Haru! How are you two getting along?”_

“Fine.”

_“Do you feed her regularly?”_

“Yeah.”

_“Do you have cat toys?”_

“Yeah.”

_“How old is she?”_

“Dunno.”

The barrage of questions lasts for much longer, but Haru doesn’t mind because it’s a distraction. And it’s a good distraction. And Haru thinks he should remember this the next time he doesn’t want to put the effort forward to video-chat with Makoto.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Turns out Saba likes Haru more than she likes Tatsu. She must enjoy living the sedentary lifestyle that Haru’s currently stuck in, because it’s a rare sight to see Haru huddled up under the covers without a ball of black fur somewhere on or near the futon. He appreciates the company, he supposes, even if sometimes she gets clingy and insists on receiving pets until Haru caves and runs his hand down her fur, her back arching through the touch and tail coming up to meet him.

She meows for the first time today. Haru ignores it.

The second time she does it, he rolls over, meeting with her nose to nose.

“What…” he mutters, blinking tiredly at her.

Saba meows again, little white teeth poking out, and then nudges her face against his nose.

Haru sighs. “ _What?_ Are you hungry?” No reaction. He sits up. “Do you need food?” Nothing. “Food,” he repeats, holding his hands up to his mouth like he’s about to take a bite of something, but—

Haru freezes, the gesture stiffening. And suddenly all his mind sees are red eyes. Red eyes and confused eyebrow raises and human gestures being mimicked back to him and a wave of nausea rolls through his body.

His hands drop into his lap, his eyes stinging red. 

Saba meows but Haru doesn’t hear her — just lays back down and rolls back over, swallowing down the sick feeling.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

He walks past the jellyfish and the stingrays and stands in his spot surrounded by sharks. He checks tickets without looking. He moves without thinking. He walks away from the sharks and past the stingrays and past the jellyfish and into the sea, the waves swallowing him up and if he lays out on his back like this, the stars vast and deep in front of him, he can pretend he’s anywhere, doing anything, with anyone.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

“Knock knock.”

Haru glances up from Saba, who’s curled herself on top of his chest quite comfortably.

Tatsu’s in the doorway, a hopeful smile on his face and a bottle of something goldish-brown in his hand. “I have an idea.”

It takes a whole hell of a lot of convincing for Haru to do it — to sit there and actively take drinks from the bottle that Tatsu brings out into the living room with them. But with each drink, the strong but hintingly sweet liquid burning down his throat — (honey rum, Haru’s like 83% sure Tatsu had said a few sips ago) — things start to run together and slow down but get fast at the same time.

But it’s good. It’s good because Haru can focus on how fucking _hard_ it is to talk. How weirdly spinny the room is. And when did they get that lamp by the TV? Was Haru around for that?

“M’I right or am-I right?” Tatsu slurs, a sloppy half smile stretching across his face as he holds the bottle in his hand, the liquid swishing around in it dangerously.

And Haru’s—…what time is it?

“Tsu…” he says. Is that his name? What’s _Haru’s_ name, for that matter. “Tatsu…”

“Yeah,” his roommate answers, eyelids heavy but smirk incredible.

“That’s—…you’re a…a good roommate.” Damn, that was hard.

But Tatsu appreciates it. Haru can tell by the way he grins, “Awwww…” and then ropes Haru in with an arm around his shoulders again. “Haruuuu…”

“Nice person…” Haru restates, louder this time because he’s not sure he got it out last time.

“I just—you’re—Haru. Haru I wantchya to be happy y’know?” He’s rocking them now and Haru’s not sure his stomach likes that idea. “Dunno shit aboutchyou…but I wantchya t’be happy. S—…s’important to me.”

He takes another drink. 

Haru takes another drink.

Tatsu takes the bottle from him with a flourish and a really loud, “wHICH REMINDS ME,” and when he’s got the bottle back, he says: “Y’know Toshi, yeah?”

Haru thinks hard. “No.”

Tatsu leans back, bewildered. “WHAT. _Toshi_. You—you know Toshi.”

“Okay,” Haru supposes, “But I don’t-though…”

“TOSHI,” he repeats, like saying it again and louder this time will make him remember. “He’s—was at the party.”

“Party…”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” 

Haru still doesn’t know who Toshi is.

“…’nyway…yeah turns out uh—turns out he’s really—really likes ya, Haru.”

The room spins a little bit but Tatsu’s got this wiggly eyebrows thing going on and Haru may be drunk but he knows what that means. “No.”

“‘No’, what?” Tatsu takes another swig, the liquid swishing around again and his lips smacking wetly against the glass bottle as he pulls it away. “Y’don’t even—” He stops mid-sentence to offer the bottle to Haru as an afterthought, who shakes his head because…because yeah this feels like a healthy state of things and he doesn’t want to be sick. “Just give ’im a chance, man. He’s smart. _Hot_. I’mean god _damn,_ Haru. You’re passin’ up’n opport _unity_ here.”

He scratches through the short hair on the side of his head, and Haru reaches up to his own with a confused grope, his hand landing on something hard. Tatsu’s snapback. When the fuck did _that_ happen? Haru is _not_ a hat person.

“Oi, Haru.” There’s a fast movement in front of his face and that’s when he realizes Tatsu’s waving his hand there, trying to get him back. “Oi. One date. S’into you, man.”

Haru swallows, something gross starting to bubble up in his chest. Because no. He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to be with anyone. Fuck, he didn’t even want to be with anyone before Rin and then—

“Huh?”

Haru glances up. “Huh?”

Tatsu gives him an amused grin. “Who’s Rin?”

It’s like a slap to the face and a punch to the gut all at once, and if Haru was in his right mind, he would’ve wiped the whole conversation clean and redirected. But. “Rin.”

“Yeah, man,” his roommate’s chuckling. “Who’s that?”

Haru’s face feels hot, and why the fuck does his brain think this is a good time to get all those images flooding back? “H—…he’s…”

Tatsu watches him, eyes narrowing but in good nature as he tilts his head a bit like he’s trying to figure it out on his own. “Boyfriend m’guessing?”

Haru swallows. Again. “N—…” What was he? He was definitely something but it’s not like they ever really said anything or like anyone really said that either and all Haru really knows for a fact right now is “I miss him…”

It’s quiet then. 

Really quiet. 

Haru feels like he’s going to throw up.

“Oh…” Tatsu doesn’t say much but that, scratching at his short hair again. Then: “So like…you’re what…broken up?”

The tears that well up in Haru’s eyes both surprise him and scare the shit out him, especially when one falls down his cheek. Because he didn’t okay this. He didn’t say it was okay to cry in front of—in front of—…at _all_ … 

Tatsu’s gaze drops to the floor and Haru’s got his bottom lip bitten red, just trying his best not to get any worse than this. Because he didn’t cry when Rin left. Didn’t cry when _he_ left. But now there’s this overwhelming urge to just let it out because it’s been building building building since day one and…

“Ah…” Haru grits out at himself, pulling the hat from his head and burying his face in it and it all just explodes all at once — all the pent up sadness — the pent up hurt and frustration and the fact that he misses Rin so much. So _fucking_ much. He misses the feeling of his skin and his mouth and his teeth and the _stupid_ gestures that they had worked out together to the point of having their own language but it doesn’t matter now because he’s not coming back and Haru fucking _misses_ him. So much. So much that his heart has sunk to the floor and he doesn’t even process the hand on his shaking shoulder because it hurts. Everything hurts. Everything hurts and Haru didn’t think it’d be this hard.

Tatsu pats his shoulder again. “I feel ya,” he says, and Haru’s not sure what part of that he just said out loud, but there’s no going back now anyway. “Breakups ‘re hard, man. S’okay…”

Haru’s breath is coming out shaky now, his face still buried in Tatsu’s hat, and he guesses it’s rude to sob into someone’s belongings, but there’s not much he can do about that right now.

“Hey…s’those good times, y’know? Try’n think’a those.”

It’s good advice. Haru knows he should follow it. Knows he should think about all the funny shit Rin did too. The nose-flicking. The pretending to not understand Haru when he damn well knew what Haru was asking him to do. The—…

Haru huffs out a sad breath, “…in…n’the tub…” he tries, “…with th'soap. I hadta—…the hand thing, y’know?” He’s not sure he’s coming across well, but Tatsu’s nodding him to continue anyway. “Hadta…” oh god, that’s funny now that its not directly inconveniencing him. “Hadta carry ‘im to the bed ‘cause he…y’know _tail_ …can’t walk witha tail.”

Tatsu’s approving nod slowly stills, a smile beginning to play across his lips. “…huh?”

Haru glances over at him, probably looking like shit but— “Tail…” he repeats, visions of sparkles in the moonlight and all that sappy shit. “Rin tail…”

Tatsu laughs, shaking his head. “The f—… I don’t follow, man…”

Haru frowns for a second, then the realization dawns on him. Oh yeah. “Shark.” That’s worth mentioning. “He’sa…a _mer_ shark.”

Sometimes he forgets only he and Makoto know that.

Haru jumps at the sudden laughter, Tatsu grabbing his side as he starts heading for the floor as he laughs. “wHAT.”

“He _is_ ,” Haru glares. The fucking nerve.

“Sure,” Tatsu’s still laughing, tears in his eyes. “Yeah!”

It’s enough to get under Haru’s skin _real_ fast, and he pulls his phone out of his pocket to scroll through his camera-roll, not many pictures to pick from in the first place because that’s not really Haru’s thing anyway. When he gets to it, he takes a second to take it in, just seeing Rin’s face making his heart hurt again, but this is for proof. This is for his honor.

“Fuck you,” Haru snaps, holding the phone out in front of Tatsu’s face and waiting impatiently for him to stop laughing and look.

It takes a bit, but when he does, his laughter dies out in his throat, a look of squinty-eyed disbelief taking over, and then his mouth dropping open. “Wh—…”

And Haru feels all powerful. Smug even. 

Yes. That gorgeous creature is his.

… _was_ …his…

Suddenly Haru’s not so smug.

“What…the fuck…” Tatsu’s still stuck on the photo. “Is…s’that real?”

Haru pulls his phone away, taking one more look before turning it all the way off. “Yeah.”

“I…” Tatsu is taking this much better than Makoto did. “That’s like…like some _legend_ shit, y’know?”

The corner of his phone digs the black seashell into his leg as he pushes it into his pocket. “Yeah.”

“Wow…”

There’s silence.

Awkward.

The room is moving.

Then: “Dude…” Tatsu’s laughing again. Incredulously. “D’youknow how fuckin’ _cool_ that is?”

Haru feels the tears starting to well up again. “Yeah.”

His roommate must see them, because he waits a second, and then hands the bottle over. 

Haru takes it and tips it back, sickness be damned.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

He wakes up to a throbbing headache, bile rising in his throat, and Saba nudging her head against the hand he has laid over the side of his futon.

Fuck.

Everything.

He throws up three times before the awful, terrible, surreal realization of what he said last night clicks in his head. He throws up again and then drags himself out into the kitchen for water.

His dolphin glass is already chilled and waiting for him on the table, Tatsu draped on the couch in the living room with sunglasses over his eyes and an icepack under the back of his neck.

“Okay…” he groans as the floorboards creak under Haru’s footfalls. “Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea… That’s my bad.”

Haru takes the glass in his hand, condensation dripping down over his fingers. He glances down into it, not sure how to broach the subject. “Uh…about what I said…about Rin…”

Tatsu waves it off, sunglasses still in place and head still tipped back. “Chill, man. It’s cool. I’m not tellin’ anyone.”

He says it with such nonchalance that it throws Haru off for a second. But it’s an _honest_ nonchalance. Like Tatsu couldn’t possibly be bothered to bring up the fact that his roommate’s ex is half shark to anyone.

Haru glances back into his glass, ice cubes bouncing around off each other and the sides of the cup. “…oh…thanks…”

Tatsu groans as he yawns and then makes a finger gun at him without looking. “You got it, champ.”

Haru takes the water back into his room and tucks himself in.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

He knows he should delete that picture of Rin off his phone — knows he shouldn’t have even taken it in the first place — but Haru’s become firmly attached to it. It’s a fond memory, bitterly fond given the fact that it was their last interaction together, but Haru didn’t know that when he took it. Yes, he was sad and there was that whole Big Looming Thing, but in retrospect, he could’ve been a lot sadder — could’ve been like he is now. But he wasn’t. And that, by elimination’s sake, cancels out the previous sad feeling and therefore makes him very very _very_ attached to the photo. So he keeps it. Even though he shouldn’t.

He limits himself to one look a day though. 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

The aquarium is busy today. It must be a holiday off school or something because there are way too many families for a weekday. 

Haru walks past the smaller tank with lesser fish and the jellyfish and the stingrays and he glazes over and stands in his spot. The sharks are just moving gray blobs. Nothing like real sharks. Nothing like R—stop. Stop. He’s not supposed to be thinking about him.

A mother hands Haru an entire stack of tickets and he nods without even looking at them. Doesn’t even attempt to look at the ones stacked under the first one. He just nods and they pass and Haru wonders if he should go down to the lighthouse at the beach today. He’s been there a few times now, finding solace in the general familiarity of it. He can’t say he doesn’t look out on the horizon every now and then, waiting for something — looking for someone — checking for Ri— _stop._ God, stop. He has to stop.

A school of fish that the sharks aren’t interested in eating pass by and the shadow they cast on Haru’s hands are bothersome — triggering — set him off a little bit because he remembers so clearly being in the Iwatobi shark exhibit right after the incident with the seals. The shadows on the floor. The shimmer against his skin. Against Rin’s skin.

Haru comes to, the frustration of the now long line of people waiting to be let in by him filtering into his awareness, and his hand sweaty as it kneads away at the shell in his pocket. 

He has to get it together.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Haru’s in a bad place again.

He curls up in his blanket.

He finds the picture of Rin and looks at it for a long long long time before swiping his thumb across his screen and deleting it, his chest tight and getting tighter by the minute.

He calls Makoto and asks him to just tell him stories about work or something — fuck, he’ll even settle for stories about him and Sousuke — he just needs something because he’s sick of thinking about this bullshit. Makoto agrees and goes on and on and on and Haru’s listening with all his might because he needs this right now. Needs to disconnect. Needs to stop thinking about how much he misses Rin.

Makoto talks until his words get slurred and he’s fallen asleep, and Haru has the black sea shell clutched in his hand so tightly that it’s left indentations and it’s suddenly very clear what he needs to do.

The city's lighthouse is on when he gets to it. He climbs the rocks around it and finds the place facing the water that he always sits at — always _sat_ at in Iwatobi. But he’s not sitting this time. He’s standing, body tense and heart in his throat, eyes wet and hands clenched. 

The tide is low and calm and everything Haru isn’t — everything he can’t feel anymore since leaving. But the moon is full, and bright, and hangs beautifully in the sky and Haru knows that if Rin were looking at it right now, he’d love it just as much.

He unfurls his fingers, the shell heavy in his hand like it’s never been. And he knows he’s crying and he knows he’s weak in more ways than one but he can’t do it anymore — can’t move on and be okay if he’s got sentimental things like that photo and this seashell and the memories that’ll be a lot harder to erase. So he stares down at it one more time, turning it over in his palm and the moonlight hitting off it just like it always has. And as he holds his hand out over the water, the final tie almost slipping through his fingers, he almost doesn’t hear it — soft, unsure, insecure… “…Haru…”

For a moment he thinks it’s in his head — a vile trick his subconscious is playing as its last means of holding on.

But then…

Again…

“…Haru…?”

It’s almost panic that he feels at first, his eyes scanning the water frantically until—…until he sees them. Red eyes. Red, concerned eyes and red hair and—and…

“R—…” Haru can’t find his voice, and for a moment, can’t find the strength to move. But when the water shifts, it all comes sweeping back in. “Rin…”

He falls to his knees, crouching toward the water’s surface and the moon’s reflection and…and there he is. 

“Rin…how’d—…” his heart might burst right through his ribcage any minute. “How’d you know I was here?”

The mershark rises from the water a bit more, seemingly convinced by Haru’s immediate reaction that it’s safe. That things are, for right now, okay. “Sousuke…” he says. 

And Haru doesn’t understand how that makes sense right this second, but that’s only because he can barely think — can barely see. He wipes the back of his hand over his eyes, the rush of everything happening at once almost too much after all the shit he’s been feeling these past two months. “Wh—…” and he hates to say it, but… “Why’re you here?” Because if he’s back—…if he’s suddenly just _back_ and then he leaves again—…

Rin comes closer with that, must be reading his mind or Haru must’ve said it out loud or something because he reaches out, his hand waiting for him in the moonlight. And for a second Haru hesitates. Because… “Rin…if you can’t stay—”

“Haru,” he says, and it sends shockwaves through Haru’s very core. 

But he does it. He takes his hand, and pulls him up, and suddenly the silver shimmer of his tail is back and _he’s_ back and it’s a lot. It’s a whole fucking lot and Haru will be damned if he doesn’t make absolutely fucking sure—…

“Rin,” he says, and he tries to be steady but it’s hard with the way Rin’s suddenly just here, sitting next to him, looking at him again. “I can’t do what we did before. I can’t do it if it means you keep leaving.”

His words reach Rin, and he can tell the moment they do because Rin’s gaze immediately drops in obvious guilt. But when he looks back up, there’s a determination there. A commitment. An obvious decision.

And Haru has to be sure. “What about the sea.” It’s not a question because he can’t find the strength to make it one — to deal with the possibility of Rin leaving again. “What about where you’re from.”

He can feel it welling up again, high in his throat. Because what if—

His invasive thoughts are cut off by Rin, his hand reaching out once more, this time to heavily press palm-down on the center of Haru’s chest. And Haru…Haru remembers that from before. That gesture. 

A declaration. 

A promise.

It’s firm. And if he had any other doubt, it gets swept away by how Rin tilts forward, eyes closing and nose coming to brush against the side of Haru’s. It’s the signature nuzzle — the affection that had been stuck in Haru’s head all the while — and it’s enough to make his chest feel like it’s going to crumble in on itself.

He lets his own eyes fall shut as he takes it in, and then very quietly says, with a tinge of amusement: “ _Now_ what am I supposed to do with you?”

It’s kind of a joke, but Rin slides forward until he has awkwardly repositioned himself into Haru’s lap, his arms looped around Haru’s neck as he sits there expectantly. It’s—…oh man, Haru sighs, it’s really cute…

But this isn’t like Iwatobi. There are people around once you get back into the city. He can’t just sneak Rin back to the apartment through the shadows like he did months ago. 

“Okay,” he says, leaning back a little to pull off his hoodie and only realizing after the fact that it’s a little too cold to be in just a t-shirt tonight. But it’s worth it. And so is shuffling out of his pants and into his swim leggings, giving both to Rin, who sticks his head through the hoodie like a pro but then just stares down at the jeans.

Because…he’s not changing back yet. And if he’s even half as embarrassingly emotional as Haru is right now, he won’t be changing back for a _while_. So Haru figures, what’s the rush. They’re hidden from the shore. No one’s going to see them. They might as well take a breather and calm down before risking a move while Rin’s still half-shark.

So that’s what they do — they just sit, Rin solid and heavy and very much _there_ in Haru’s lap, his head resting against Haru’s chest and the side of Haru’s face coming to rest against the top of his head — and they sit there and they wait and most of all, the most important thing of all, they’re together.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

It doesn’t fully hit Haru that Rin’s really _here_ into they’re back in the apartment, flush against each other and legs tangled together underneath the blanket. It doesn’t hit him because it’s not until then that he’s actually looking — really seeing — Rin’s eyes shining out through the dark and looking right back at him. It’s not until then that close isn’t close enough. Touching isn’t feeling enough. It’s not until then that Haru starts to feel the haze that has clouded his brain start to thin, ever so slightly, to allow the smallest pinprick of light through.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

He texts Makoto in the morning, arms lifted above where Rin’s laid on top of him, his phone hanging in the air above his head as he types.

**‘rins back’** And that’s almost enough to make his heart swell again.

It’s not even ten seconds after he hits send that his phone is lighting up again, vibrating in his hand as words display across the screen.

_Incoming call: Makoto_

Haru lets his eyes close, seriously debating picking up when he’s got Rin asleep on his chest and he feels just as drained. But…

“Yeah.”

_“What do you mean? Are you okay?”_

Makoto is as high strung as Haru expects him to be, but the genuine concern is oddly reassuring. “I’m fine.”

_“How—when did this happen?”_

“Last night.”

_“Where is he now?”_

“Right here.”

_“And you’re okay?”_

Haru glances down at where Rin stirs against him as he wakes, eyes blinking groggily up at him, and then the corners of his mouth pulling up into something gentle and serene. “Yeah,” he says, resisting the sudden urge to brush away the bangs tumbling freely across his face. “I’m fine.”

Rin’s smile follows as he tips his head a bit to watch Haru. And then Makoto speaks again.

_“I’m glad…”_

It’s such a nice moment…calm and relieving…and Haru almost hates to ruin it. But…

“Makoto…”

_“Hm?”_

“…did you tell Sousuke?” The silence that follows prompts him to be more specific. “…about Rin?”

That’s where the silence ends, however, because Makoto is back with such sincerity that it’s almost frantic. “ _No. No I said I wouldn’t.”_

But. “Why’d Rin mention him then.”

It’s a small thing — practically inconsequential at this point now that Rin is here with him and things are starting to be okay again — but Haru just can’t seem to let it go. And when the other end of the conversation is stark still like this, it just feeds the curiosity even more.

“Is he there?”

_“Hm?”_

“Sousuke,” Haru clarifies, something interesting flashing in Rin’s eyes as he does so. “He’s with you right now, right?”

It’s a valid assumption — only fair to expect those two to be all over each other now that they don’t have to tiptoe around Haru.

Makoto is, nevertheless, sheepish. _“He…is…”_

“Can you put him on.” It’s more of an expectation than it is a request, but Makoto has to have seen this coming. Haru can tell because there’s a lot of shuffling of fabric, and then the sound of Sousuke clearing his throat just a few inches away from the phone before:

_“Nanase.”_

Haru cuts straight to the point. “You told Rin where I was.”

A pause that rivals Makoto’s follows, and then Sousuke returns, tone even and without guilt. _“I did.”_

“When.”

_“A couple days ago.”_

“Why.”

_“He obviously needed to know where you are.”_

“...why.”

Sousuke hesitates, but when he finally says it, it’s with a bitterness that Haru doesn’t expect. _“Because he showed up at my front door. And he wasn’t exactly all human. And I figured if he had the drive to drag himself across town all night, he had the right to know where the fuck you ran off to.”_

It hits Haru. All of it. The realization that Rin had probably been waiting for him at the locked front door for who knows how long before going to Sousuke’s. The fact that he was distraught enough to have changed, but stubborn enough to stay on land and literally drag himself to where he could find answers. The fact that Haru has been here this whole time, feeling sorry for himself and thinking he had it the worst off, when miles away Rin had it impossibly worse.

Haru lets his eyes close. 

He’s a fucking idiot.

_“Oi.”_

_“Nanase.”_

“Thank you…” is all he gets out, quiet but honest. And he’s not sure if Sousuke even heard him but he hangs up anyway, tossing his phone to the side and wrapping his arms around Rin’s frame. “Rin…” he mumbles against his forehead — skin cool and smelling of the ocean. And when he says it, he feels it with his very core, in every bone. “I’m sorry. I really thought you were going to pick the sea.”

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

They’re in the kitchen when Rin meets Tatsu for the first time. He’s pushing through the door, snapback in tow and an arm occupied by a takeout bag.

“Oh!” he backtracks a little bit when he sees that there’s a guest. To be honest, he’s probably just spellbound by the fact that _Haru_ has a guest. But then wires must start to connect in his brain or something because he’s smiling. “Holy shit, you’re Rin!” And then those wires must complete their circuit, because his excitement fades into realization, then incredulity. “Holy shit…you’re _Rin_.”

So yeah, Tatsu _does_ remember that drunken breakdown then.

“He’ll be staying here for a while…” Haru intervenes. And by ‘a while’ he means ‘as long as I’m here’. “If that’s okay.”

And Tatsu must 100% get that, because his smile turns knowingly devilish before he waves it off with his free hand. “Hey hey, the more the merrier I say. Plenty of room, right?”

Haru nods, relieved that he doesn’t have to go through the whole ‘this is my…well…I don’t know exactly but he’s definitely half-shark’ business. And when he glances over, Rin’s got that drained look of dread on his face as he stares at Tatsu.

Haru can’t help but smile just a touch, “I know. You’ll get used to him.” And when Tatsu turns from the counter with an insulted _what_ , he just shakes his head. “Nothing.”

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

It’s Makoto’s suggestion, honestly. That, and Haru had the stupidity to mention it to Tatsu and of course _he_ thought it was a good idea. And even though the sickly tightness returns to his chest when he thinks about it, he knows it has to be done.

Because if he’s going to stay with Rin — if they’re going to be… _whatever —_ the remaining few of his friends have to know.

He and Rin meet them all down at Iwatobi Pier, far at the end of the dock as the sun sets behind them.

Haru shifts uncomfortably, eager to get out from under the gazes of Makoto and Sousuke and Nagisa and Rei, but he knows he has to do this. Knows he already fucked up way too many times with this in the past so he has to just _do it — say it_.

“Haruka-senpai, what’s with all the dr—”

“Rin’s a mershark.”

He blurts it out. 

Nagisa and Rei stare in confusion. 

Makoto offers a friendly smile. 

Sousuke rolls his eyes at Haru’s bluntness. But…

“Rin,” Haru tries again, gently tugging at the boy in question’s arm to pull him forward. “He’s—…this whole time. He’s half-shark.”

More staring.

Makoto’s doing his best to give silent encouragement from the back of the group.

Rei is, unsurprisingly, having a rough time abandoning his marine biology knowledge in order to suspend his disbelief. “I…beg your pard—”

That’s when Rin pulls away with a huff of frustration and hops off the end of the pier and into the water with a splash, obviously taking it into his own hands since Haru’s not doing such a stellar job on his own.

And…yeah, Haru supposes that’s a way to do it too.

There’s only a moment of blatant confusion by the Dream Team, because it’s interrupted as two hands slap back up onto the end of the pier, leaving wet splotches as Rin pulls himself up. Haru crouches down to help him, noting, with exasperation, his pair of completely shredded shorts as they float by. But he figures it’s worth it, taking Rin’s hands and hauling him out of the water and back onto the dock.

And that’s where Rin sits, skin soaked and gills prominent and his tail fin flicking pointedly against the wood.

Haru turns back to his friends.

Waits with baited breath.

Feels his chest start to tighten until—

“Whoooa! Oh my god that’s so awesome!” Nagisa’s unbridled enthusiasm shatters through the silence, his arms coming up in excitement as he barrels forward and skids to a stop on his knees in front of Rin. “Rin-chan’s the coolest!”

Haru lets out his held breath, relief washing over him as Rei joins him as well, adjusting his glasses with a look of pure incredulity. “Remarkable… May I be so bold…?”

“Yeah! Can we feel, Rin-chan?”

Rin gently pulls his hand from where Nagisa’s holding onto it, nodding as a small, proud smile begins to dance its way across his lips. 

“Truly incredible…” Rei murmurs again, calmly smoothing his hand over Rin’s dorsal fin and probably in marine biology heaven right about now.

Haru allows another small sigh of relief, then glances over to where Makoto is watching him, head tilted and smile genuine and warm.

As is on cue, Nagisa turns half of his attention to where the other two are standing closely together. “Wait! Why aren’t you guys surprised?”

Makoto answers for them, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly. “Oh, well, we already knew.”

“Whaaa? How could you keep this from us!”

“It’s very complicated,” he chuckles, no doubt looking for some support from either Sousuke or Haru. 

But Haru’s already starting to let things naturally tune out on their own, content to watch Rin sit there proudly as his friends see him — truly — for the first time.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

They settle into a routine.

Haru goes to work. Rin reads through books, picks up what he can. Haru comes home and helps him with new words. They learn and teach and learn and teach and Rin hasn’t exactly started talking like a human yet, but one of these days he might.

They go out and do things. Rin reminds Haru to eat. Motivates him to go to work with either sweet puppy-dog eyes or a pointed jab in the side. Takes care of Haru when things get low just as much as Haru takes care of him. 

They aren’t exactly sure of their next move — don’t know if it’s a good idea to go back to Iwatobi or if they should find their own place somewhere close. Somewhere near water. Somewhere that Rin can swim now that Haru knows he doesn’t have to worry about it. For now, they stay where they are, wrapped in each other and the black sea shell glinting prettily on the windowsill. 

When Haru wakes, vision blurred until focusing on Rin’s shadow as it moves towards the door to the hallway, something like sour deja vu swirls in his stomach. But Rin turns with a gentle smile, holding up an empty water glass in his hand before saying, lowly so as not to disturb the calm created between them, “I’ll be right back…okay?”

His first full sentence. A sentence they both know well.

Haru’s heart swells warmly from it, happy to finally be on the receiving end of the phrase he had told Rin so many times back then.

He nods, a smile on his face as he lays his head back down onto their pillow and lets out a content sigh. “Okay.”

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who stuck with this roller coaster of a story, and those who shared their thoughts with me. You guys are what kept me going and motivated me to work, and for that I am truly thankful ^_^ 
> 
> The Behind the Sea playlist is now complete, and can be found [here](http://whatthebodygraspsnot.tumblr.com/behindtheseaplaylist). 
> 
> Be on the lookout for my next work: a dark Rin!centric Ai no Kusabi AU with multiple ships


End file.
